To Walk a Narrow Path
by Dragongirl16
Summary: The sequel to Faith. Every action has a reaction and not all of them are good. HD slash, post book 4 AU HD slash
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I'm just playing. No money is being made from this story, so don't sue me.

Chapter One: Farewells

"This is not happening."

It was cold in the hallway. Harry stared down at his hands and chafed the skin, hoping to warm them. He looked up and out the door; the sun had yet to clear the sky of the thin layer of clouds that had arrived in the night. He could almost see the lake, murky in the low light of the morning. It looked peaceful.

"Sirius, please…"

"Absolutely not! Harry was supposed to come home with me! With us!"

Chaos reigned in the castle entrance. Harry sat on his trunk with his hands hanging limp in his lap. His breath was coming in short pants – though no one noticed. Which was the way he wanted it. If he spent any more time in the Infirmary he thought he'd go mad.

"Sirius…"

"Headmaster, how could you! I trusted you to get us Harry's guardianship."

"It has been taken out of my hands, Sirius. The Minister –"

"Screw the Minister!"

"The wards at the Dursley's will protect Harry from the rogue Death Eaters."

"And the wards at the Black Manor would do more than that! Albus you know this."

The Headmaster spread his hands, an unhappy expression on his face. "I know this, yes. But I cannot do anything about it. The Aurors will be arriving soon to take Mr. Potter back to his relatives' house. It has been decided by the Minister and held up by the courts."

"He. Is. My. Godson." Sirius was vibrating with rage. His hair stood up almost on end and his hands were clenched tight at his sides.

"And he is Petunia Dursley's blood-related nephew." The Headmaster's tired voice rang out in the hall. "In these matters, blood will always triumph over the wishes of our hearts."

Sirius spun away. "This is complete hogwash." He approached Harry and crouched in front of him. "Kiddo? Wouldn't you rather come home with us?" He reached out and touched one of Harry's hands. "Kiddo?"

Green eyes flicked open. "Yes…I would." He gulped in a deep breath. "But…the Minister…is doing this…because he can." He shrugged and met his godfather's eyes. "It's his revenge."

"Harry?" Remus put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Someone get Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm…fine."

"You're panting for breath!" Sirius reached for him, but hesitated at the last minute. He stood and face Albus. "See? He can't go to the Dursley's like this!"

"Is there anything I can do?" Lucius Malfoy stood next to his son and watched the upset animagus. Draco left his father's side to sit with Harry, taking one of the boy's hands in his own.

"Yes. Merlin. I don't know." Sirius ran a hand through his hair and watched as the Head Nurse knelt next to Harry and fed him an orange potion. Harry swallowed it with difficulty, making a face at the taste.

"Sirius," Albus laid a hand on the wizard's shoulder. "I am going to challenge the Minister's order myself. But it will take time. Until then, Mr. Potter will have to go to his relatives' house."

"It shouldn't be this way." Sirius shook his head. His eyes were glassy. "He's my godson. You promised, Albus. You said we'd get to take him home."

"I know and I am more sorry than I can say." The older wizard looked away. Two Aurors were walking up the path to the castle.

"Fix this, Albus." The animagus' eyes blazed. He shook off the Headmaster's hand and returned to Harry.

"Hey, Kiddo." He took Pomfrey's place in front of the boy. "We'll come and get you soon. You won't be there long."

Harry smiled at him and the expression twisted Sirius' heart. "I know, Padfoot." Harry looked past him and rose. He threw his arms around his godfather's neck and squeezed. The older man held him tight.

"I'll be with you soon," Harry whispered into his ear and then pulled away. Sirius watched as the boy said his goodbyes, trying to comfort a weeping Ginny and a furious Draco. The blond pulled the smaller boy away and whispered into his ear. Sirius watched as a light blush stained Harry's cheeks and he began to shake his head. Draco said something else, which made Harry laugh and hug Draco again.

The Aurors had reached the small group and were watching Harry. Sirius growled, the sound trickling out of his throat. The Aurors looked at him and their hands strayed to their wands.

Albus stepped between them. "You are the Aurors sent to take young Mr. Potter to his relatives' house?"

The men transferred their gaze to the Headmaster. "Yes," the older of the pair said.

"I trust you will inform Mr. Potter's godfather of his safe delivery?"

The Auror licked his lips as his eyes shifted. "That was not in our orders…"

"You will do so." The Headmaster's voice was flat. The Aurors glared at him.

"Fine." The younger of the pair put a hand on his partner's arm and sent the man a sharp glance. "If it will keep everyone happy, we'll do it."

Albus studied the man. "It would."

"Then we'll owl you the minute we can." The Auror stuck out his hand. "John Rayne. This is my partner, Daniel Gest. We won't let anything happen to him."

"It's not you I'm worried about." Sirius rose to his feet and faced the men. "Make sure those bloody muggles don't hurt him, or you'll hear from me."

Rayne's eyes widened, but he nodded. "Mr. Potter's safety is our first priority." He looked past the animagus and forced a smile onto his face. "If you're ready, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked from the Aurors to Sirius. "Yeah." He hoisted his book bag onto his shoulder and let the Aurors shrink and pocket his trunk.

Rayne pulled out a bent piece of plastic and held it out for the boy to touch.

Harry's face turned a pale shade of green. "I thought we were taking the train."

"Well, we could, but the Minister would rather we use the port key."

Sirius sent Albus a look. "Mr. Potter does not fare well with port key travel, gentlemen." The Headmaster pulled out his wand and the bent piece of plastic flew from the Auror's hand. "The train, I think, would be a much better option."

"Now look here, old man…"

"Dan." Rayne's smile was gone and a glimmer of anger made his eyes shine. "If that's the way it's going to be, then so be it." He shrugged and turned to Harry. "Let's go."

Harry nodded and fell into step with the men. He looked back once and raised his hand. Sirius echoed the gesture. He let his hand drop once Harry turned away.

He turned to face the Headmaster. "Get my godson back, Albus. Do it quick." He stormed from the castle entrance, heading for his rooms. Silence followed in his wake.

**qpqpqpqp**

That the Dursley's were anything but pleased with Harry's escort was an understatement. Harry was barley over the threshold when Vernon slammed the door in the Aurors' faces. He whirled on Harry.

"Now see here, you ungrateful brat. How dare you bring those freaks to our door? The whole neighborhood could have been watching. If they had any idea…"

A sharp rap on the door stopped Vernon's tirade. He opened it a crack.

Rayne's foot wedged itself in the sill and an ebon wand introduced itself to Vernon's round chest.

"Open the door, Mr. Dursley. We're not done yet."

Vernon sputtered and tried to force the door closed. He was knocked back by the Auror's shoulder colliding with the wood. Harry moved out of the way.

"I have further instructions, given to me by the Minister of Magic himself, for both you and your family." Harry's eyebrows rose at the look the older Auror sent Rayne. He had to hide his smile with his hand.

"Who do you think you are? This is my home!"

"I am John Rayne and this is Daniel Gest. We are Aurors and we are charged with Mr. Potter's safety while he is staying here in your care. We will be visiting Mr. Potter every three days to ensure that he comes to no harm from anyone inside or outside this house. Have I made myself clear, Mr. Dursley?"

Vernon's face was a dark shade of red. He sputtered while Rayne turned to face Harry.

"Mr. Potter. If you will show us your room? I wish to make sure it is secure."

"Secure? We put the bloody bars back on his window! The imp won't be leaving this house anytime soon." Vernon stood at the base of the stairs, calling up after them. "That boy is a menace! We've put new locks on the doors! And I know that brat can't use that freak power of his outside school! He…"

Vernon's voice faded to a distant buzz as Harry let the Auror into Dudley's second bedroom. The shiny silver locks were many in number and a cat flap had been cut into the base of the door.

Harry set his book bag down on the scarred desk and sat on his lumpy bed. He watched the Auror pace around the room, checking the heavily bolted window and the locks on the doors.

"Potter, will you be safe here?"

Harry blinked at the man. They had not spoken on the long train ride to London or during the cab ride to the Dursley's.

"I'll be fine. They always explode when I first come home. Then they just try to forget about me."

Rayne turned to him, one hand braced against the edge of the door. "They've done this to you before?"

Harry paused, then nodded. "Ron and his brothers came and rescued me once." A sad smile rose at the memory. "They pulled the bars off the window with Mr. Weasley's auto. My aunt and uncle were livid."

"What about your owl?"

"Draco has her." Giving up Hedgwig had been hard, but Harry had wanted her to be able to hunt and fly as she wished instead of being cooped up in her cage for the summer.

"So you have no way to send or," the Auror's eyes went to the window, "receive letters?"

"No, sir."

Rayne pulled out the lone chair in the room and sat in it. He planted his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together.

"We were only supposed to see you to the door," he said and shook his head. "But that muggle…"

"Uncle Vernon always likes to shout." Harry shrugged. "It makes him feel important."

The older wizard let out a long sigh. "I will check on you every three days. You _will_ tell me the minute anyone does more than shout, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Rayne stood and looked once more around the room. "I'm sorry, Potter. We didn't know your family was going to be like this."

Harry's smile was bitter. "No one does. Thank you, though." He stood and let the Aurors out. Gest gave him a piercing look, which Harry answered with a slight nod. The older man's shoulders dropped and they stalked from the house.

There was an ominous silence from behind him after Harry closed the door. He turned to see his aunt and uncle staring at him with identical expressions of mixed hatred and fear.

"You're a damned nuisance." Vernon was shaking with rage. "You get no sympathy here, boy. Know that now. You're a killer, a dangerous animal that needs to be put down. They should have let you die."

Harry blinked. "So the Headmaster did write you."

Vernon sneered. "Don't think we're cowed by a pair of pansy boys in dresses, waving around sticks, freak. Get up to your room. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night."

Harry said nothing more, but turned to climb the stairs to his room. Dudley appeared at the entrance to the kitchen and sneered at him. _It's going to be a long summer_, he shook his head and closed the door to his room. He checked the time and brought out the potions Pomfrey had loaded him with. The bitter fluids made him grimace, but he swallowed them down. _I hope I'm wrong about how long it's going to take._ He sat on the edge of his bed and studied the bare room and floor. _Hurry, Headmaster. Please._

**qpqpqpqp**

The Black Manor was a sprawling place. It was three stories tall, made of dark grey stone. The windows were numerous and reflected the overcast sky like giant silver eyes.

Ginny stared up at the structure and felt her mouth drop. "It's huge!"

Sirius put an arm around her shoulders and puffed out his chest. "Just one of many, Gin. Though I think it's the biggest." He guided her towards the door. "We have a villa in Italy, on the island of Capri. Apparently one of our ancestors was the head sorcerer in Caligula's court way back when. The Roman Emperor thought so highly of him, he ceded a huge chunk of the island to our ancestor. It's been in the family ever since."

"Wow." They'd reached the front door, where Bill and Remus were waiting for them.

"Bill, if you please." Sirius handed him the heavy iron key.

The Black heir took it with a small bow and a wide grin. He turned and opened the door with a flourish.

The hall was dark and lined with disapproving portraits. Ginny gulped and dropped her gaze to the flagstone floor.

"Welcome, my dearest Blacks and Remus, to the ancestral home of the most ancient and noble House of Black!" Sirius spun, his arms spread wide and then snorted. "I think we need to redecorate."

His words sent the portraits to muttering with each other. Sirius' grin was sharp and quick.

Ginny's room was on the second floor. Sirius stood back and let her enter by herself.

The petite girl limped into the center of the room. The floors were made of a dark, hard wood. The walls were royal blue and absent of portraits. A wide window seat over looked the formal gardens and a bubbling fountain. The bed was a gigantic four poser, with dark blue curtains. The bedspread held a repeating pattern of fleur-de-lis in silver.

"Oh, Sirius." The word father still did not come with ease for her, but she hoped that would change soon. She turned to face him and he caught sight of the tears in her eyes.

He hurried to her side. "Gin, what's wrong? Do you like it? There's about ten other rooms if you want to pick your own out."

"No!" She threw her arms around him and held on tight. "It's perfect! Just – perfect! I love it!"

Sirius folded his arms around her and bowed his head. "Good. Good."

The room had a separate bath and dressing room. A large fireplace had two plush chairs in front of the hearth. A majestic vanity was peppered with crystal vials and a silver comb set.

Ginny pulled away and wiped at her face. "Merlin. Oh Merlin. This is just…amazing." She moved to the bed and scooted onto it. The mattress was soft and she fell backwards to be enveloped in the satiny comforter. She bounced and grinned.

"Are we all on the second floor?"

Sirius nodded and leaned against one of the bedposts. "You bet. Remus and I have the far bedroom. Bill's three doors down from you. Harry's room…" The animagus faltered. He swallowed hard and forged on. "Harry's room is across the hall."

"What's on the third floor?"

Sirius' grin returned. "You know, I forgot to check. Let's go find out." He held out his hand for her to take. Together they scampered for the stairs.

**qpqp**

"Ugh."

"What in Merlin's name…"

"Are those…eyeballs?"

"Gin, don't…go over there."

The third floor was not what they had expected. Remus and Bill had joined them in their exploration. So far two guest rooms were found filled with junk and unused furniture. The other rooms were a bizarre cross between a mad scientist's lab and a nursery.

"This was the children's…playroom?"

"I hope not." Sirius tilted a jar filled with gray fluid. A tentacle came out and smacked the glass. He shoved it back on the shelf. "The house was taken from my grandparents by the Ministry. I forget why. My mother always wanted it back in the family. The Ministry turned it into a tourist trap – not the house, but the gardens and they used the Pitch to host several championships." His smile turned feral. "Not anymore. And," his eyes flashed, "the Ministry has to give us a percentage of all those past profits. All of them." Sirius stooped and picked up Ginny, whirling her in a tight circle. "Which means, my dear, that you can get anything and everything you heart desires!"

Ginny clasped his shoulders and giggled. "Sirius!"

"Is there an attic?" Bill looked a bit queasy as he studied the jars lined on the shelves.

Sirius put Ginny down and scratched his chin. "Not that I know of. I think there's a few crawl spaces, but that might be it."

"Huh." Bill stuffed his hands into his pockets and tilted his head to one side.

"Any reason?"

"No. Just asking." He flashed the animagus a smile and headed for the door. "I'm going to get unpacked."

"Excellent idea. Then," Sirius bumped shoulders with Remus. "How about we go out for a nice fancy dinner?"

"Why not eat here?"

Sirius pulled a face. "No house elves and trust me, you don't want to eat my cooking." They all laughed and followed Bill out the door.

**qpqp**

Ginny fidgeted in her seat. They were at a pricey muggle restaurant in the heart of London. She tried to hide her cane against the side of the table.

"They're not staring at you, Ginny." Remus' quiet voice made her jump.

"They stared when we came in."

"I think they were staring at Sirius." The dry tone was laced with laughter. "I don't know what possessed him to wear that jacket of his."

The object of the many disapproving stares was a battered motorcycle jacket that had seen better years. It was scuffed grey in areas and the shoulders were decorated with bright patches of a former era. The maitre d' had hesitated when seating them, but the Black name and flash of money took them to a corner table by the windows. The view looked out over the busy square and the bustling muggles moving along the sidewalks.

"Have you been to London before?"

"No, just to the train station." Ginny turned so she could watch the people below them. "M – Mr. and Mrs. Weasley never had enough money to take us anywhere."

Remus laid a hand over hers. "We're near the theater and shopping district. It's a good place to go rambling for a day." The werewolf's eyes took on a sad light. "Lily took us all when we were just out of school. You should have seen Sirius. Like a boy in a toy shop."

She ducked her head to hide her smile. "That'd be fun."

He patted her hand and his eyes became clear once more.

"Dessert, Ginny?"

She jumped and glanced at Sirius. "I can?"

The server standing at the animagus' elbow smiled at her. There was an honest warmth in the girl's eyes. "We have a wide selection. Cheesecakes of every description. Ice cream sundaes, a triple layer chocolate cake and tiramisu."

"What's tiramisu?"

The girl winked. "The most heavenly dessert on this earth, bar none."

Ginny answered the server's smile with a hesitant one of her own. "I'll," she glanced at Sirius, who nodded. "I'll try that."

"Brilliant!" She made a notation on her pad. "And for you gentlemen?"

"Chocolate cake!"

The server laughed and made note. "One tiramisu and three chocolate cakes coming right up." She winked at them once more and strode away.

The desserts came a few minutes later and they dug in. Ginny stared at the small square cake, which was covered with a pale cream sauce and flakes of what looked like chocolate. She lifted her fork and took a small bite.

"Good, Gin?"

She nodded.

"Let's see." Bill's fork inched for her plate. She snarled at him and curled one arm around her plate, protecting her treat. Sirius and Remus began to laugh.

Ginny grinned at her brother, but didn't let him near her plate. Sirius put his head down on the table and howled. She bounced in her seat and swung her legs, ignoring the stares headed their way. It was a good meal.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry made a face and pushed the stale bread and questionable ham away. The glass of water felt nice on his parched throat.

He sat cross legged on his bed, surrounded by books. They were last year's textbooks, for all of his classes. A ream of notes sat at his side, filled with his shaky writing.

He was upset with how much he had forgotten. The lessons had taken a back seat to his dream travels and he was now paying the price for it. The OWLs were scheduled for the second week of term, since they had been cancelled due to Voldemort's attack. Harry hoped he'd be ready for them.

The Dursley's only let him out to shower and use the bathroom. He'd been stuck in the room for three days and was starting to feel the walls close in on him.

Muted shouts from the front door reached his ears. He looked up as the locks on his door opened one by one.

Rayne stepped in through the now open door. The young Auror had a scowl on his face as he glanced over his shoulder.

"Go _away,_ Mr. Dursley. I will speak to Harry in private." He shut the door in the muggle's face.

Rayne turned to face Harry. "Hello, Mr. Potter."

"Auror Rayne."

They studied each other for a long moment. "Have they harmed you?"

"No, sir."

"Are they feeding you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you well?"

"Yes, sir."

Rayne frowned and glanced around the room. "Are they letting you of this room?"

"No, sir."

The Auror's eyebrows rose and anger lit his eyes. "We'll see about that."

The Auror wrenched open the door, upsetting Vernon's and Petunia's balance against it.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

Vernon pulled himself to his full height. "This is _my_ house. I'll do as I please in it."

Rayne's frown made Vernon take a step back. "Mr. Potter needs fresh air and the ability to leave his room." He pulled out his wand and tapped it against the door. The locks faded away. Harry winced.

"I'm going to get a –"

"I'll take care of it, Potter." Rayne gave him a sharp glance. Harry subsided.

"Now," the Auror returned to the Dursley's. "Do you understand?"

Vernon purpled, but nodded. Harry bit back a sigh and closed his Transfigurations textbook. He could feel the list of chores already piling up in his uncle's head.

**qpqp**

The garden was in terrible shape. Harry was on his knees, with his hands covered with mud. His throat ached and his back was protesting his every movement.

He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and sat back on his haunches. He's fallen out of bed, too tangled in his nightmare to wake up until his back had collided with the piles of books on the floor.

He was right about the list of chores his aunt and uncle had for him. He was also back to cooking for the family, which he didn't mind at all. _At least when I'm cooking I get more to eat_. The thought made a faltering smile touch his lips.

The gruff threats from his uncle about keeping quiet about his chores didn't phase him. It was his cousin's quiet, watchful smirks that had Harry worried. Under that piggish stare he felt five years old again, when Dudley was at his height of Harry-hunting.

The back gate opened, revealing Dudley and a pack of his school friends. Harry curled a hand around the trowel and watched the boys with his heart in his throat.

"Hey Dudley? Innit this yer criminal cousin?"

Harry pressed his lips together and swallowed back a snort.

"Yeah," a vicious smile creased the sweaty flesh of Dudley's face. "He's nothing but a freak." The portly boy pulled out a pack of slim white cigarettes and lit one up, even as Harry gaped at him.

"You're _smoking_?"

"Yeah, freak. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

"I'll tell Aunt Petunia!"

"She'll never believe you." Dudley strolled – or rather, tried to stroll – over to where his cousin was crouched on the ground. He flicked a shower of aches onto Harry. He took a hold of the cigarette, pushing the glowing tip near Harry's face.

"What's going on here?"

Dudley snatched his arm back and dropped the cigarette. He stamped it out and kicked the butt at Harry. He whirled and jabbed a chubby finger in Harry's direction. "He was _smoking_! See? He's got ashes all over him."

John Rayne leaned against the fence and looked at Harry. "Is that true?"

"No, sir."

"Thought as much." The Auror pushed off the fence and entered the yard. Dudley's friends scattered out the now-empty gate. Dudley's hands clenched at his sides.

"You – you can't do anything to me!"

"Oh?" Rayne raised an eyebrow. "Says who?"

"That freak government of yours. Harry can't do magic here, no one can."

Rayne's smile was cruel. "That law is only in effect for minors." The Auror pulled out his wand. He waggled it at Dudley. "Now, I seem to remember that someone here once had a tail."

Dudley squealed, clapped his hands over his rear and ran for the house. Harry watched him go with a smile on his face.

"He always been like that?"

"As big as a whale? Yes." Harry uncurled his fingers from around the handle of the garden tool.

"I meant…"

"He's a bully. That's all." Harry brushed his hands off on his pants. "Bully's always run away at the first sign of a real fight."

Rayne studied the boy in front of him. The day was pleasant, warm enough so that Harry didn't need a jumper, but not hot enough to push the sweat from his skin.

"I've come with news."

Harry let his hands rest on his thighs. "The courts turned down the Headmaster's first call for appearance."

Rayne looked startled. "How did you know?"

Harry looked away. "A good hunch." He glanced up at the Auror. The man's eyes were a strange shade of hazel, almost gold. He had dirty blond hair and a square chin. "Why are you helping me?"

Rayne squatted next to the boy and picked up a clod of dirt. He crumbled it between his fingers. "A lot of reasons. Not all of us are heartless bastards. Just some of us." He let out a huff of laughter. "Dan tries to be one, but fails miserably at it." He let the remains of the clod fall from his fingers and studied his nails. "I'm muggle-born, you know. There was a…kid across my street that I knew. You remind me of him."

Harry's world tilted and he let his hair fall forward to hide his face.

He saw a row of once respectable houses falling into disrepair. He saw a pack of kids running down the street, calling taunts after a skinny blond boy with glasses.

"You got your eyesight fixed?" Harry's breathless question startled Rayne.

"How did you –," he drew back. "Did you read my mind?"

Harry's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "I could only read one man's mind and I never want to do that again."

"The Dark – Voldemort?"

Harry raised his face and touched his forehead. The scar was gone now, but Harry sometimes thought he could feel it, late at night, hiding under his skin. "This connected us." He let his hand drop. "That's how I found out stuff for the Order."

"You went into Voldemort's mind?" Rayne's horrified tone drew Harry's stare.

"How else were we supposed to know what he did next?"

"You know what? That Snape fellow was right." Rayne shook his head. Pinched lines had appeared around his mouth.

"Professor Snape spoke to you?"

The lines around Rayne's mouth eased as he smiled. "You could say that." He pulled out a small box from his pocked and unshrunk it. "This is for you, from Snape. He said you're to take them with your other potions."

Harry took the box and peeked inside. "My throat's much better now, though." Which was the truth. His relatives' wanted his work, not his words. The silence was a welcome reprieve. There was a note tucked in with the bottles.

_Mr. Potter_, it began. _I'm sure you can recognize the Dreamless Sleep potions I have included. Use them sparingly, if you please. The blue vials are healing potions and the green are to be taken when your throat pains you. I have contacted Auror Rayne and he has told me that he shall be visiting the Dursley house every three days. Leave word with him should you need anymore supplies._

-_S.S._

Harry touched the swirling signature and smiled. He looked up at the Auror. "Thank you, sir."

Rayne did not smile, but his eyes warmed. "I'll see you in a few days, Potter." He stood and left.

Harry tucked the note into his pocket and closed the box. The heavy weight was comforting on his lap. His dirty fingers tightened around the fine grain wood. He hoped he wouldn't have to use them.

End Chapter One


	2. Chapter 2: Darkness Born Twice

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters. I'm just playing with them. Don't sue me.

Chapter Two: Darkness Born Twice

The body that had been Bellatrix Lestrange's lurched through the forest, stumbling from tree to tree, leaving bits of flesh in its wake. The forest creatures scuttled from its path, their heads and tails low. The heavy, sour stench of urine from weaker creatures stained the air.

That-which-was Bella stopped at the edge of a clearing. Dawn was approaching, making its skin shift and shiver. Blood pumped in heavy spurts from the wounds it had taken; it would need a new host, soon.

Madness made the black eyes glint as it stared up into the lightening sky. Dawn was coming. More than one. And it would make it bloody with pain and fear.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry woke, sweat dripping down into his eyes. His heart was hammering in his chest and his lungs ached, as though he had been underwater for too long. He passed a hand across his eyes and made a face at the smear of blood that came away.

_Wait, what_? Harry held out his hand. A copper smear decorated the back of it. He felt at his forehead, but there was no pain. He blinked and winced, his eyes hurt. He probed around them, hissing as his fingers met puffy bulges and odd, hard lumps around the corners of his lids.

He scrambled off his bed, heading for the foggy mirror that was perched above his dresser. Dudley had used it for some sort of muggle science experiment and had demanded a new one, when it had been unable to be cleaned.

Harry met his reflection, staring at his face with wide green eyes. Blood was caked around his lashes and there were drying trails marching their way down his temples and cheeks.

He pushed back the heavy fringe of his hair and checked the area around where his scar had been. There was nothing. He poked at it, but there was no pain. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his gaze going back to the blood around his eyes.

"This isn't good." He blinked a few times, gritting his teeth against the pain in the first few passes. After dislodging some dried clumps, the pain dissipated. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"

"Dream child?"

The Morrigan's voice made Harry jump. He whirled around, catching himself on the edge of the bureau.

She looked the same as the last time he had seen her. Her wild black hair fell around her face, sending her eyes into shadow. Harry wished he knew the time, but his wand was locked away with his trunk in the garden shed.

She was perched at the end of his bed, her elbows resting on her knees and with her head cocked to one side, staring at him. "You're bleeding, child."

"I know. Er. Well, that I'm bleeding, but I don't know why."

She rose, stepped off the bed and approached him. Her feet made no noise against the floorboards. She raised one hand, letting her fingers hover above his skin. A fine line appeared between her brows. "Does your head hurt?"

"No. Ma'am."

A smile flashed across her face. Her hand lowered and Harry shivered. Her skin was hot to touch. "Your eyes are bleeding."

"Yes."

Her thumb swept across the dark hollows under his eyes. "Something lingers in your blood, like fat spiders waiting for the prey."

Harry took in a shaky breath. "The Vision Potion."

She tilted her head to one side. Harry became aware of a scent rising up around them.

"Do you smell that?"

Her other hand came up to cup the other side of his face. "It is battle and death, child. Do not worry."

It was all around them now. Harry could feel the thick stench in the back of his throat. "Can you make it stop?"

Her eyes glittered in the strange half-light. "That is not my duty. I am death, I am rage. I am the victory shout and the victim's screams. I _am_ battle, Dream Child. I could not stop it, even if I knew how."

Harry tried to swallow. There seemed to be something stuck in his throat. He met her glittering gaze, trying not to flinch. "Is there going to be more death?"

Her sudden laugh was not what he was expecting. She drew him into her arms and cradled him against her body. "There is always death, child. It is the one thing every human can be sure of. They are born to die."

"But," Harry tried to push away, but the strong arms held him close. "I mean, is there going to be another battle?"

She went still. "I do not know, child. The darkness pushes, angry that we wake and walk once more. Perhaps it is that which you sense."

"But I don't sense anything."

She pulled back, looking into his eyes. "You are closer to the Otherworld than a mortal has been in millennia. You will sense things. You will know things. That is the way it must be."

Harry began to tremble. The cold of the room seemed to be soaking into his bones, even with the Morrigan's heat near him. "What if I don't want to sense anything more?" He knew it sounded childish. Even pathetic. _But I'm so tired_, he bit back the words, hoping the goddess wouldn't hear them anyhow. _I want to rest! I want a family! I just want to go home with Sirius and Ginny and Remus and Bill. And,_ he flushed, _I want to see Draco. Just once. More than once. I want all of it._ He drew in a shuddering breath.

Her eyes softened. She slid an arm around his shoulders and guided him back to his bed. Tucking him under the covers, she sat on the edge of the mattress, one hand soothing back his hair.

"Child," she ran a hand down his cheek. "There are things in this world, many things, that I do not know. Things that I was never meant to understand. But this," her thumb erased a trail of blood. "This I do understand. We are born to become what we were meant to be. This, all of this, is greater than we know. Even us gods." Her smile was gentle. "Have faith, child. Dagda and Danu will not forsake us. Perhaps in time, this too shall fade."

"Are you sure?"

Her smile faded and Harry read the truth in her eyes. He turned his face away.

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

Her rustling weight lifted from the bed. "Do not fear, child."

He kept his eyes on the wall. "I'm not afraid."

"Then do not despair." Her voice faded away and by the time Harry looked back, she was gone.

He turned his face to the ceiling, his hands clenching in the sheets. "But what if I already am?" He turned on his side, facing the wall. Burying his body under the covers, he snaked his pillow down to hold close. "Sirius?" He whispered into the dark. "I want to go home." He hid his face in the musty cover and let his tears flow.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Ginny!"

Ginny woke with a start, her hand going to the edge of her bed where her cane rested. She blinked, staring at the dim figure of Bill standing at the foot of her bed.

"What?"

"You have to come see!" He moved over and grabbed her hand, pulling her from the warm cocoon of her blankets. Her feet hit the cold wood and she shivered.

"See what?" She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palms as he dragged her to the window.

"Look!"

Dawn was creeping over the lawns, pink and yellow tendrils of color shooting across the sky. The bubbling fountain was a mountain of silver in the light. Ginny gaped and pressed closer to the glass.

"How wonderful!" Her breath fogged the glass and she wiped it away. "Oh Bill! This is wonderful!"

He turned to her, his smile a dark slash in a shadowed face. "Should we go wake up the old guys?"

She grinned back at him and hobbled for the door. Bill pressed her cane into her hand and she thanked him with a wink.

Together they crept down the hall, the dim light creating plenty of shadows for them to hide in. They approached the door and pressed their hands against it.

"Ready?" Bill was crouched down to his sister's height.

"One, two…"

"Sirius!"

Ginny jerked her hands back from the door. She felt her face flood with heat. Bill sagged, one hand coming up to stifle his snickers. More sounds of muffled passion drifted by them, undeterred by the thick wooden door.

Ginny backed away from the door, one hand coming up to cover her eyes. Bill grabbed her shoulders and hustled her away from the door, his muffled laughter bouncing off the walls. They burst back into her room and collapsed on the bed.

"I think," Ginny gasped. "I think we should leave them alone in the mornings." She snickered and buried her face in her pillows.

"I think you're right, Gin." Bill propped his chin with his hands, even as his shoulders shook with suppressed giggles. "Although, if we ever wanted to mortify them…" He winked at her, making her giggle harder.

"I don't think my mind would be able to recover from that sight." She wrinkled her nose. "They're…well _you_ know. Old."

Bill's roar of laughter filled the room. Ginny cocked her head to one side and stared at him.

"What?"

He laughed harder.

"Is it because they're _old_?"

He slid off the bed and rolled on the floor. She peered over the edge at him.

"You adults are so weird sometimes."

Bill sat up and dragged a hand across his eyes. "Ginny…" She met his gaze and he shook his head. "Never mind. Let's go get some breakfast and then we'll go romp about the gardens. What do you say?"

"Sure." She wiggled off the bed and limped to the bathroom.

**qpqp**

Harry woke to his aunt screaming his name.

He rolled off his bed, only to find his legs give out from under him. He stared at his trembling feet, trying to make them move. _Not now_, he gulped down a lungful of air, determined not to cry. _Don't tell me it's starting now_.

He sat on his floor and waited for the shakes to ease. His hands, he noted, were almost fine, though if he held them out in front of his body for too long, then they began to shake. Once he could move his toes, he clambered to his feet and made his way down the stairs.

"Where have you been!" Petunia was standing at the oven, poised over the hissing skillets like a snake about to strike. "We have been waiting for fifteen minutes…" She turned to him and let out a small shriek. Her trembling finger rose to point at his face. "There's blood all over you!"

Harry brought a hand to his face and brushed away a few flakes of rusted copper. He had almost forgotten about the midnight meeting and his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia."

"Get to your room this instant! What if my Dudders had seen you? Get! Right now!"

Harry sighed and turned away. The trip up the stairs took longer than the trip down, but he was grateful to be back in his room again. He lay back on his bed and threw an arm over his eyes.

_I knew this was going to start_, he drew in a shaky breath. After the Morrigan had left and sleep had come, he had dreamt. The skies had gone dark in the west, either with storm clouds or something else, he didn't know. His skin had been cold, so cold. He had looked down at his hands and saw them shaking, thin and white. He'd looked up and found himself in front of a large gray house that was full of windows. _Sirius' house_.

His dreams had gotten worse. The house that he'd longed for was not bright or warm. He'd entered the house, leaning heavily on the banisters, looking for the family he wanted to call his own. But he couldn't find them anywhere. And there was something screaming in the house. But he didn't know what.

Harry removed his arm from his eyes and rubbed at his face. He wanted to take a shower, but knew he would have to wait until his relatives had gone. They were taking Dudley to his favorite stores in London for his birthday present. Which would give Harry the whole day at the house, by himself.

He rolled over on his side and fished out the letters that Rayne had given him. He'd gotten one from Ginny and one from Sirius. There was a fistful from Draco – several of which had made him blush and hide them under the mattress.

He pulled out Draco's latest letter and smoothed it out. The familiar handwriting was canted to the side and a bit splotchy. It had been written on the way home from one of the parties Lucius had demanded Draco attend. The blond had described it in detail to Harry, saying – numerous times – that he had wished Harry had been with him.

Harry smiled and touched the paper to his lips. Draco's letters had come every time Rayne had arrived. They were the one thing he had to look forward to during the long days of summer. He wished Sirius and Ginny had written more, but pushed that thought aside as quick as it came. _They're busy_, he swallowed and folded the letter with care. _They're learning how to be a family. And…and maybe finding a way to get me there sooner. Maybe. Of course they are. Of course_.

He pushed himself into a sitting position. His arms felt weak, almost watery. He shook them, but the feeling persisted. _I should tell Professor Snape_, he chewed on his lower lip. _But…he'll get fussy. Or cranky. Or something._ He let out a breath and shook his head. He'd do his studying first. And if the feeling persisted, then he'd think about sending a letter to Snape. Maybe.

Maybe.

**qpqpqpqp**

That-which-was-Bella pushed its fingers into the man's eyes. Dark fluid burst out over the skin, slicking his fingers and wetting its face. It pushed harder, feeling bone and tendon and finally, finally a warm softness.

Bellatrix Lestrange's corpse fell to the ground, its husk withering as the god left its confines. A dark, heavy mass rose in the air, even as it fed from its victim's mind. Power, not a large pool, but enough to whet his appetite, filled his essence. With the power came memories, came feeling. Came his _name_.

_I am Crom Cruach_, it shuddered and would have laughed had it a throat to speak with. The darkness swelled as the body it fed from was wrung dry. The hovering mass turned and looked north. There was a small wizarding settlement there, the newfound memories told him. Seven families with small shops that served both muggle – _muggle?_ – and wizards alike. And there were children. Families full of children.

The dark god's amorphous essence thinned to a shadow, slipping away in the dark to move from tree to tree. There were houses that had lights in the windows, but not for long. Soon they would all go to bed, blow the candles out and the old protections would fade.

_And then…I will feed._

**qpqpqpqp**

Draco looked out his window and tried not to sigh. He knew his father was frowning at him, but he didn't care. He wanted Harry. And Harry wasn't there.

He knew his father was trying to push him into the political realm. All of the dinner parties he had been to had pushed that fact into his face. And while he appreciated what his father was doing…_I still want Harry here. I want Harry to come with me to these bloody dull parties, to whisper with me about the idiots or, or even to argue about Quidditch. Anything_.

He rubbed at his eyes and settled back with his book. It was an old tome, from the dark room of the private library. His father had decided that if Draco had enough sense to awaken the old gods, then he had enough sense to start reading about them too. He'd picked out a volume of myths first, since it _was_ his summer holiday.

_Irish Myth and Legend_ was the title of the book. So far it had been an interesting, if a bit dry, read. _Whoever the author was, they didn't have a sense of humor_, Draco quelled a snort. His father would not approve of such behavior. Even if he would agree that the book had all the juiciness of a dried apple.

"Father?" Draco ran a hand over the cloth cover of the book.

"Yes, Draco?" Lucius did not look up from his paper.

"Will Scrimgeour keep the ban on the Dark Arts or do you think he'll open a discussion on it?"

He heard his father pause. Draco took care to hide his pleased smile. It wasn't often he could catch Lucius off his guard. "Why do you ask?"

Draco swung around and let his legs dangle from the window seat. "There were near a hundred bans on certain spells in this last century. They were labeled Dark Spells and banished from the new textbooks. But since there are so many old gods returning, the spell lists will have to be looked over, since Scrimgeour can't arrest people willy nilly for worshipping their gods."

Lucius' eyes glittered. "And what would you do if you were Minister, Draco?"

The blond leaned back and thought. "I would appoint a council to go over the lists and the spells tied to each god or goddess that has been seen." So far almost a hundred gods, both large and small, had made their impact on the wizarding world. Old families had embraced their return with joy, but Draco knew that not all of the wizarding world felt the same. "And I'd make sure that the temple to all gods was built in Diagon Alley."

The temple had been a sticking point for the last month in the wizarding world. With the inclusion of so many muggle-born witches and wizards, the spread of monotheism had almost wiped out the old gods. But the push to have one temple, dedicated to _all _gods, not just the old, seemed to rankle the One God's followers even worse.

Lucius leaned back in his seat. "And how would you make sure the temple was built?"

Draco frowned. "I'd ask the old families for the funds."

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "Truly?"

"Well…" Draco turned the thought over in his mind. "No…you're right. That wouldn't work. There would be a class division." He blinked and looked at his father. "And the government can't really push for it either, can they? It would look like partisan politics."

Lucius awarded his son with a smile. "Good, Draco."

"So…" Draco drummed his fingers on the cover of his book. "So one family should sponsor it. And then give it to the people." He looked at his father. "That way they would gain the respect of the old families and get the love of the people."

Lucius folded his fingers on top of his paper and let his smile grow. "And that is exactly what we shall do." Father and son shared a grin in the warm morning light.

Draco turned his look to his hands after a moment. Some of the happiness fled as he thought of Harry. _I wish you were here,_ he thought. _I wish you could be a part of this too._

End Chapter Two


	3. Chapter 3: A Birthday Riddle

DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, I just play with them.

A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews!

Chapter Three: A Birthday Riddle 

Neville was sitting on the porch of his Gran's cottage when Blaise arrived. He didn't see the boy at first – the plant he was tending was temperamental at best and vilely cranky at worst. He needed all of his concentration to make sure it took its feed and kept it down.

When he looked up, he smiled. Blaise's short-sleeved shirt was red, like the color of a stormy dawn. The Slytherin sidled up to Neville, his hands hidden behind his back.

"Hello." Neville hadn't had the chance to see Blaise for a week. The larger boy had been taken by his parents, _all four of them_, Neville couldn't help thinking with a mental laugh, to the shore for a holiday.

"Hello." Blaise sat on the worn stones next to him. "I have something for you."

"Really?" Neville wanted to kick himself for the breathy wonder in his voice. He coughed and looked away. "You – you didn't have to. And I don't have anything for you, either."

"Nonsense. It's your birthday." Blaise pulled his hands forward and handed over a present wrapped in dark green paper. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Neville's lips. "I hope you like it."

Neville knew his face was turning a fine shade of red. Blaise had never dared to kiss him before, at least not on his Gran's own porch. He knew the older woman was inside, making a dinner for his birthday. He turned the small box over in his hands and tried to stop blushing.

Blaise touched his cheek and chuckled. "Did I embarrass you too much?"

"What? No!" Neville looked up. "I – thank you. I didn't say that did I? I'm sorry. Thank you."

"For what? The present or the kiss?"

Neville felt his ears go warm. He shot a look into the house, but couldn't see his Gran anywhere. "Both," he said, his voice soft.

The look in Blaise's eyes was hard for Neville to read. "Open your present."

Neville turned the box over in his hands and felt for the edges. He slid a thumb under the tape and tried to pull it off so that it didn't rip.

"What are you doing?"

He looked at Blaise. "Opening it."

"Aren't you going to rip the paper? I always did. Made the mothers furious sometimes, with all the scraps. But they liked it too." Blaise leaned his shoulder into Neville.

"I," Neville's hands stilled on the box. "I, we…"

"Oh for heaven's sake boy, rip it open!" Gran's voice from the kitchen made them both jump.

Neville took a breath, grabbed the edge of the silky green paper and tore it with a wince. The first was the hardest, and the longest. The smooth, wooden box underneath the paper was unveiled with a few sharp tugs.

He couldn't find the seam on the box. He spun it around, raising it to his eyelevel. "Where's the opening?"

"You have to figure it out."

He sent Blaise a look. "I'm not good with puzzles. You know that."

The other boy just smiled at him. "You'll figure it out. And you are good with puzzles. You should have more confidence in yourself."

Neville frowned at him, but turned back to the box. His thumb stroked across the top and he felt something. He did it again, peering at the fine grain of the wood. Just barely he could make out the thin line of a seam. He pushed the wood to the right and the top gave, sliding with ease to reveal its prize.

The box was empty. Neville cocked his head to one side and peered into the shallow depths. "More riddles?" He asked.

Blaise shook his head and took Neville's hands in his own, box included. "This," he licked his lips. "This box is made for a certain purpose. It's a – it's a kind of riddle in its own way, but I'm not sure if your family carries the tradition or not."

Neville looked down at the box in their hands and studied it. He had seen something like this before but…He blinked. "You're asking me to marry you?"

There was a crash from the kitchen. The tip of Blaise's nose and ears began to turn red. "I," he looked away. "So you do know what it is."

"Well, I think so. I mean, my mother had a box like this in her things, but…" Neville blinked again. "You are! You're asking me to marry you!"

Blaise drew his hands from Neville's. "Well, I know we're young. And it's really more of a promise. A – a type of, well, I mean…it's not like an _engagement_ promise or anything. Just…sort of a…well…a pre-engagement promise?" He was fidgeting with his cloths, pulling the collar of his shirt away from his throat. He cast a look at Neville.

Neville looked down at the box. It was still empty. "Where's the pin? Or is it a ring? I – I'm not sure how this goes."

"It's a pin." Blaise clasped his hands together. "Like a broach." He was staring at the ground now, the blush fading. "I…It's in my pocket. I didn't know…" He blew out a sigh and drew a small, round pin. It looked silver, though Neville doubted it was. It was in the shape of a woven knot, with writing that was too small to read inscribed all along the rim.

Blaise tipped the pin into Neville's hand and looked away. The metal was warm from the other boy's body heat. Neville stared at it.

"You're mad, you know that?" Neville shook his head and Blaise jumped and spun to look at him. "Why in the world would you want _me_? You have a family name, you'll need heirs." He closed the box, but held the pin tight in his hand.

Blaise moved around so that he knelt in front of Neville. "I don't care about heirs. Mother's pregnant again. Twins this time, they say. They can continue the line, not me." He slid his hands onto Neville's knees and looked into his eyes. "We're young, yes. That's what the promise broach is for. Pin. Whatever you want it to be. But," Blaise's eyes shone. "But I do know that you are everything to me. And I do not want to be parted from you. Ever."

Neville swallowed and reached out to touch Blaise's face. "You're mad," he said again, his voice breaking. "Yes. I'll accept it. Broach, pin, stampeding hippogryphs. I don't care what it is."

Blaise's face broke out into a smile. He cupped Neville's face and kissed him, pressing his body close. Neville wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders and closed his eyes.

"Achem." The sound of his Gran's voice drew them apart. The older witch stood in the doorway, her apron dusted with flour and spots of oil, a wooden spoon clutched tight in one hand. Her arms were folded across her chest. "And when did you think to ask for permission for this, young man?"

Blaise drew back and met her stare. "No permission is needed for a promissory gift. But I'll ask for your permission to marry him now, if you like."

She studied him, not smiling. "You're right. You _are_ young. Too young for marriage, that's for sure. You're both just sixteen. A lot changes between now and twenty."

"Twenty?" Neville looked up at his Gran.

"It is the age in which same sex wizards are allowed to marry."

"But…" Neville looked at Blaise. "Couples marry after seventh year all the time."

Gran made a face. "Those are the so called 'normal' couples, Neville." Her eyes still hadn't left Blaise's face. "I'll give my consent to this, boy. But," she pointed the wooden spoon at Blaise. "If you so much as make him cry on purpose I'll rip out your heart myself, is that understood?"

Neville gaped at his Gran. He hadn't thought she'd actually say yes. _But she did, she did!_ She turned to look at him and smiled, but the expression in her eyes was…sad. Then he blinked and she was gone, whisking away into the kitchen, her voice trailing behind her.

"Now both of you go wash up. Dinner's almost done and it seems we have more than one thing to celebrate tonight."

**qpqpqpqp**

The boy was out in the yard again.

Rayne leaned up against the wooden fence, watching Potter work. The boy moved slow, too slow for a fifteen year old. _He's almost sixteen_, he reminded himself. _Wizards are always affected when they come of age._ Centuries ago, sixteen had been the age when the students in Hogwarts had graduated. They took their place in society for better or worse and most often to marry. _Especially_, Rayne wrinkled his nose, _the pureblood houses_.

Rayne remembered the summer he had turned sixteen. He had been moody, short with everyone and full of magic. All children were. _But Harry,_ he sighed and lifted the latch on the gate. _The boy looks ancient already_.

"Potter?" He was almost on top of the boy.

Harry spun, hands spread on the dirt, his face white. He stared up at the Auror, his eyes wide and glassy. _He doesn't see me_, Rayne felt a cold shiver of fear spread down his spine. "Harry," he said, crouching down so their heads were level with each other.

Harry's eyes didn't move. "Ravens reeling in the sky. But they're not ravens. They're carrion crows." He blinked, inhaled a shuddering gasp and reached out. "Down by the sea. There's blood. So much blood."

Rayne swallowed down a mouthful of saliva and took the boy's hand. Flesh to flesh contact seemed to shock him out of his trance. Harry flinched, one hand coming up to his eyes as he tried to pull away.

"Hey, Potter. Harry. It's me. Auror Rayne." He kept his voice soft, soothing. "C'mon, lad. There's a boy. Focus on me now."

Harry didn't drop his hand from his eyes. "Rayne. Auror Rayne. Privet Drive. Dursleys." Rayne watched him swallow and shuffle away, this time letting go of the small hand in his grip. The boy wiped at his face and looked up.

"Merlin, Potter!" The boy had blood on his face. Rayne fumbled for his pockets. "Just hang on a minute. I'll take us to St. Mungo's."

Harry reached out, his thin hand clamping around Rayne's wrist. "Don't," he said. "It passes. It's all right."

"Are you mad? You're bleeding from. The. _Eyes_, Potter! That's not normal!"

"It's…it's from the potion I took." Green eyes rimmed in red met his gaze, too bright and too old for a boy so young. "Don't. It'll just raise a fuss."

"A _fuss_?"

"Yes, a fuss, one we don't need. If St. Mungo's finds out what I've taken," Potter swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "They'll put me in Azkaban."

Rayne sat back on his haunches. "No they won't, Potter. You're the…"

"Savior of the wizarding world. I've heard that line before and seen all the nonsense that went with it." Potter's hand was still tight around his wrist. "Please don't."

It was the please that got to him. The boy's voice had cracked halfway through the word, spiraling him back years until all Rayne could see was a helpless child who knew that there really were monsters under the bed and that everyone he knew hated him.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Fine, Potter. No hospital." He opened his eyes in time to see the boy sag with relief. "But," he said as he freed his wrist. "You are coming away."

Dark brows drew together. "But you can't. Take me away, that is. It's not safe."

"Potter, if you knew how many wards were on the Black Manor, you wouldn't say that."

The boy looked away. "Have they petitioned yet?"

Rayne blinked. "Ah. Well, I don't think anyone told them to do so, what with the Headmaster…"

The dark head bowed. "It's all right. They're busy."

Some spark of rage bloomed in Rayne's chest at the soft answer. "Bollocks it." He stood, dragging the boy up with him. "All your things packed?"

"What?"

He placed steadying hands on the thin shoulders. "I said…"

"What are you _doing_, Rayne?"

His partner's voice dragged him away from the mad plan he had concocted in his head. He turned to see Daniel at the garden gate, eyes furious and his mouth set in a grim line.

"Look at the child!" He moved out of the way so Gest could get a better look. "Does he look fine to you? The Minister's blathering is a pile of lies! We have to get him out of here!"

"If you don't leave that yard and get back on this side of the fence, Rayne, I'll take you in myself. You know we're not supposed to breach the wards! Just seeing the boy could mean our jobs! And now you – ever since that time you crossed the wards weeks ago…"

"Dan, shut it!"

"Please." Harry's voice had gained strength. He pushed at the Auror. "Go. Don't lose your job over this. I'm fine. I'll be fine. Just please. Go."

"Potter. Harry…"

The green eyes stared up at him. He could have sworn some sort of darkness spiraled out of the boy's pupils, obscuring the iris. "Everything happens in its own time, Auror Rayne. I will make it to Hogwarts this year, this much all futures show." The darkness vanished and Harry blinked. He drew away, shaking his head. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Rayne!" He could hear Daniel's patience coming to an end.

"Your letters." He fished around in his pockets for the crumpled notes. The boy took them, still not meeting his eyes. Rayne turned and crossed the wards. Gest took his upper arm and began shouting in his ear, the words so familiar he knew them by heart.

He kept his eyes on the boy instead, watching as the child flipped through the notes, scanning the names. He watched as the narrow shoulders drooped and his head bowed.

Rayne's rage simmered under his skin. He narrowed his eyes and turned away, allowing Gest to drag him back to Diagon Alley. _I think_, he blinked as they vanished away. _I do think that I have a plan…_

**qpqp**

_Professor Snape,_

It has come to my attention that young Potter has had some reaction to one of the potions that was sent to him. As I am bound by duty and Ministry order to never return to the Dursley household, I thought one of his professors should be made aware of this development. There are, of course, restrictions placed upon visiting young Potter, placed by the Minister himself…

**qpqp**

_Black,_

_Get your bloody godson out of the Dursleys now if you love him._

_-Rayne_

**qpqpqpqp**

When the letter came to the Black Manor the family was, regrettably, out.

They had gone down to the shore for the weekend. The large muggle city of Brighton was a handful of kilometers from their bed and breakfast. There was a small wizarding community on the coast and all of the inhabitants had welcomed the Black family with open arms.

Ginny thought her bathing suit was silly, but it had been the only one she and her male kin had been able to agree on. The one piece had small, tight shorts and a pair of tiny sleeves that hid her shoulders. It was pale lavender, the only color that had been in her size for the style of the suit. She hadn't minded the shade, but the fit…

"Bloody thing itches." She rubbed at her hip and considered the task before her. The soft sand of the shore made walking with a cane difficult, if not impossible.

"Gin?" Sirius put an arm around her shoulders. "Want some help?"

She gave him a look she'd copied from Remus. "I can do it," she said, sliding out from under his arm. "Or die trying," she added under her breath.

The first step had the cane sinking into the soft ground. She planted her good leg and pulled herself forward. She saw Bill start for her, but Remus held him back. She gave the werewolf a nod and turned back to the task at hand.

It took almost half an hour to get to the spread of towels and umbrellas her new family had set up. The part of shore they were visiting had been sculpted by wizards, so that the harsh rocky coastline had melted away for a softer, sandier spread. Once closer to the edge of the hard sand, the going had gone easier for her; the firmer ground held under her cane and she found her feet did not slip as much. Still…

"You can carry me back," she informed Bill once she reached them. She threw down her cane and plopped onto a large towel. "I'm not doing that again."

Remus put a large, frothy drink next to her elbow. It was pink and smelled of strawberries. "What's this?"

"A margarita for young ladies." Remus smacked Sirius when the animagus opened his mouth.

She eyed it. "It's not got that nasty stuff in it that the yellow ones do, does it?"

Remus paused, put down the plate of sandwiches the house elves had prepared for them and looked at her. "And how, pray tell, do you know what the yellow kind have inside them?"

Ginny blushed, looked at Bill and then beamed her best smile at the werewolf. "A brilliant guess?"

The werewolf was not amused.

She wilted under the stare. "There was a man in the library that offered me one?"

Sirius' head went up and his eyes narrowed into slits. "Young lady, are you saying you took liquor from a stranger?"

"He offered me one and pointed to the bartenders who were making them!"

The combined stares of all the men were beginning to unnerve her. "And, do tell, did you accept this drink, Ginevra?" Remus' voice was as close to a growl as she'd heard it all summer.

"Of course not!" She tossed her hair over her shoulder and swept them with her own brand of glare. "The stuff smelled simply awful. I threw a book at him and called for the clerk to take him away!"

There was a moment of silence before Sirius began to howl. "Now that's my girl! The Black genes through and through!" He chortled, falling back onto the sand, his hands holding his stomach.

She sniffed. "All you adults are so silly." She took a sip of the frothy drink, smiled and cradled it close. "May I have a sandwich please? One with cucumbers. I like them best…"

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry was digging through the trash. His aunt had started taking measurements of the contents of the refrigerator, much to his annoyance. The bits of food he'd managed to slip himself during breakfast and dinner were just enough, but they often did not ease the hunger completely.

Aunt Petunia though, he'd found much to his delight, hated cooking from tins that had been dented. She'd made Harry throw them all out at the end of the day, muttering about how his freakishness was spoiling the good food she had bought for her family. If she had noticed that the only tins that had been dented were ones that could be consumed cold, she made no fuss about it. But he had taken particular glee in smashing a good portion of the pantry one empty afternoon. No magic had been needed at all.

The ancient tin opener he had stashed under the pansies was clean enough. He had snuck out while the family had gone to the living room, to be engrossed in their programs. He knew he wouldn't be missed for an hour, two at the earliest.

He pushed himself between the garden hose rack and the tiny shed for the heat pump. It gave him a view of the back porch where his aunt would not be able to see him from the window. He put the can of tuna between his knees, lifted the rusty opener and started the long process of prying his prize open.

The dreams were getting worse. His hands were shaking almost from the moment he woke to the moment he slept. He knew he needed help, but he didn't know who to go to. He'd finally written to Sirius asking, _pleading,_ his smarting pride had sneered at him, to be taken away. He needed Pomfrey. He needed Snape, as much as he was frightened to admit. And he wanted his family, a warm bed and a pair of arms to collapse in when he needed it. But it had been a week since he'd seen Auror Rayne and the letter lay at the bottom of his trunk, unsent.

He wanted Draco too, in a way that made his stomach twist to think about. He missed the blond. He missed the heat at his side, a presence that had been there so often he hadn't know how much he'd been needing it until it was gone.

_There you go again_, said a small voice in the back of his mind. _Being selfish. Haven't you put him through enough? Haven't you tormented the boy to his end? If it hadn't been for you_…

He smacked his hand on the ground. It made the voice quiet to a small murmur. The voice had come with the dreams. He didn't know if it was his own fears talking or someone else. He'd begun to hear voices while awake, sometimes soft sighs or rampaging war screams. Ghosts of pasts so layered they were hard to tell apart often marched through the yard while he was gardening. He knew they were ghosts, muggle ghosts. They never talked to him, though some watched him all through the day.

There were a few in the yard, watching him eat. One looked like a serving girl from one of the portraits at Hogwarts. She had crept over the lawn until she was a few feet from him, crouched down on her hands and knees, her eyes glowing pale blue in the dark.

"You can't have any." He pulled the tin close to his chest, using his fingers to scoop the meat into his mouth. The ghost barred her teeth at him and scuttled forward. "You don't scare me. You can't even talk." He kicked out at her, spraying her image with dirt. She opened her mouth, showing rotted teeth and charged him. He turned his head, feeling the cold sweep over him. Then she was gone.

"Stupid. I know scarier ghosts than you." He shifted, rubbing his shoulder against the wood siding of the house. "The Bloody Baron would laugh." He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, quelling the laughter that wanted to spill out. His throat ached, but he pushed the hurt to the back of his mind. He'd run out of the potions Snape had sent him.

The night pulsed around him, the shadows growing deeper. He paused in his inhalation of food, eyeing the movement. When the Morrigan appeared, he blinked.

"Dream child." She had a streak of…something decorating one cheek. She stood over him, her form black against the night sky.

He held the tin out to her. "Tuna?"

She knelt down and plucked a piece from the tin. She made a face and spat it out. "It's oily."

He shrugged. "It's the only kind Aunt Petunia likes."

The Morrigan studied his face. She reached out and touched a pale cheek. "You are not well."

Her fingers were hot against his skin. "I'm fine. Just sore."

Her dark eyes did not blink. "You need a healer."

"There aren't any that can come here."

She turned her head and looked towards the open door of the house. "These humans are hurting you?"

"No." And it was true. Vernon had not touched Harry all summer and his cousin had been leery of Harry ever since the episode with Auror Rayne.

Her mouth was set in an unhappy line. "I do not like that you are here, child. You should be elsewhere. In a warm bed, with warm food." She moved closer to him, scooting next to him against the side of the house. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, her heat soaking into his bones. Harry felt a lump form in his throat and tried to swallow around it.

"Sirius will come and get me soon. The Minister can't stall forever. And the Headmaster will do something. I know he will." It had become a familiar saying, one he had repeated to himself every morning and night. He wasn't sure if he believed it.

Soft lips touched his temple. "Would that I could take you away from here."

He stiffened and looked up at her. "Can you?"

Her dark eyes met his. "No." She looked away. "The Otherworld…" She sighed and brought a hand up to smooth his hair. "My place in the Otherworld is dark and violent. I have no home but the fields of war and the skies above them. They are no place for a child."

The hope went out of him. "That sounds gloomy." There was just a bit of tuna left in the tin. "Can't you build a house for your own?"

She laughed, the warm chuckle jarring his frame. "Now there is a thought."

"Well, can you?"

She tilted her head to one side. "I suppose I could at that." Her gaze focused on something that was not in the shadowed garden. "Though the very idea would put all of my kin into a shock that I have not seen for millennia."

"Then you should do it." Harry nodded and put the tin to the side. He drew his knees close to his body and wrapped his arms around them. He stared out into the dark with her. "Doing what people think you should do is boring."

He felt her sigh. "You are angry."

He rested his chin on his knees. "Not at you."

"But at your kin. This godfather of yours."

He drew in a breath to retort and then let it out. "I shouldn't be." He blinked away the sting of tears from his eyes. "He's doing all he can I'm sure. I am mad at the Minister. And all of the people who think I need to be locked up or something." He scratched his nose. "I mean, what did _they_ do to stop Voldemort?" The anger inside him rose, spinning like a horde of bees under his skin.

The Morrigan went still at his side. "You have much anger inside you. It is not good to push it away."

Harry made a face. "Then what am I supposed to do with it? It's not like I can yell at them, can I? I can't be mean to my relatives because they'll be mean back to me. So what do I do?" He shrugged. "I have to push it away. I know it's not good, but there's nowhere for me to vent it. I do it here, and Uncle Vernon might put me back into the cupboard."

"You are too young to be so wise." They sat in silence for a long moment. The summer night was warm, but there was a bite on the air. "Fall is coming."

"I know."

"You are sixteen now."

"Yes."

"Most wizards come into their powers at sixteen."

He turned his head to look at her. "Really? No one told me that."

Her hand carded through his hair. "I remember from the Before. Such celebrations you mortals would hold on those nights. Bonfires would be lit, feasts eaten. And the child would come into their power under the light of the moon."

"But there was no moon on my birthday."

She nodded. "Yours was a night of darkness. It was good luck in the old times."

Harry felt his brows go up. "Really?" He sat up a bit. "What kind of good luck?"

Her laughter was a soft huff on the night wind. "It depended on the wizard."

"But," Harry's interest poked at him. "I haven't felt anything. You know. There wasn't any accidental magic on my birthday night."

"Yes there was, my dream child." Her dark eyes met his. "And you know it."

He swallowed down a sudden chill. "You mean my dreams?" She nodded. "But…" He blinked and thought about it. "I guess they have been getting stronger."

"The darkness in your blood lingers. I do not think it shall ever fade." She traced a finger along the side of his face. "It has become a part of you. You should embrace it, not push it away."

He turned his face away from the look in her eyes. "But…I took the potion to help defeat Voldemort. It was never a part of me before that."

"Not so."

"You mean the visions I used to have? I thought they happened because I was connected to Voldemort."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Sometimes the magic chooses the gifts it brings to witches and wizards, sometimes it is the family blood that decides." She moved against him and there was warmth as her cloak inched around his shoulders. He curled into the space at her side, a strange wonder moving through his chest.

"So the magic decided I was supposed to see the future?"

"Perhaps it is not done yet." She tucked the cloth around his knees and settled back. "Wild magic does its will in its own time. Not even the gods or Dagda or Danu can change it."

Harry could feel a tendril of hope swirl into his chest. "So maybe I haven't come completely into my powers?"

"I think, child, you are tremendously gifted as it is. You should honor that."

He snorted. "Some gift it's been. I can't even leave the house."

Her dark eyes glittered in the night. "All things happen in their own time. You know that." She drew him closer. "Now, let us sit for a while. Can you name me the stars? I would know what the humans are calling them these days."

**qpqpqpqp**

Severus Snape stared down at the Headmaster, his arms folded across his chest and a thunderous look of wrath on his face.

"Do read the letter, Albus. The boy is _bleeding from the bloody eyes_." He lost control of his voice and began to shout. He leaned over the desk, planting his hands on the worn, smooth wood. "We _must_ get him out of there!"

Dumbledore sighed and set down the letter. "It is impossible, Severus. The Minister has decreed that young Harry is to stay with his relatives for the whole summer. I received word that the Blacks…"

"Oh yes, _now_ the mutt speaks up."

The Headmaster favored him with a sharp look. "Sirius has sent his formal protest to the Ministry. They will discuss the matter, but I fear it will be of no use. Minister Fudge has ever been able to carry a grudge past the point of sense."

"Then he should be put out of office!"

"Time will come for that, Severus. The vote for the Ministry is almost upon us. Cornelius is using Harry to win over the public. If he can win the sympathy of the public by keeping Harry in his loving family's arms, then he wins the vote."

"The Dursleys are anything but the loving family Fudge has made them out to be."

Dumbledore sat back in his seat with a sigh. "I know that, Severus."

"Then we must get him out!"

The silvery eyebrows rose. "And then do what? Aurors will be upon us the moment we step over the wards. The Unspeakables have changed what protections I put on the house; they will be alerted the moment we appear on the street. Then we would be detained, if not taken to the Ministry for questioning, and what then?" He spread his hands. "How would you get the child from his veritable fortress?"

"By appealing to the gods, of course."

The new voice made them turn. The Morrigan was seated on the blue sofa, her arm thrown across the back, her legs crossed. A chill began to fill the room. She was not smiling.

Dumbledore rose. "Morrigan."

"Headmaster Dumbledore." Her eyes swept his frame. "I would have thought such an esteemed person as yourself would have had more influence on the public at large."

"I do not know what you mean."

"She means you should be thinking like a Slytherin instead of a Gryffindor, Albus." Severus folded his hands into his sleeves. "Have you seen the boy?"

Her eyes flicked to the Potions Master. "He is not well. As I am sure you know, the boy's sixteenth birthday has come and passed."

They nodded.

"He has not had an Awakening as most others have had." She pushed off the sofa. "But the wild magic runs strong around him."

The Headmaster made his way around his desk. "What do you mean?"

Her smile was sharp as a blade. "The boy dreams, mortal." Her eyes flicked to the letter on the desk. "And he is not well. He is _mine_," power skittered around the room. Severus shuddered as it brushed past him. "And I will not see what is mine suffer so."

"Then what do we do?" Severus took a step towards her.

She held out a hand to him. "Do you trust me, Severus Snape?"

He studied her. "No, I do not."

"Smart boy." The hand reached out, fisted itself into his robes and they disappeared.

End Chapter Three


	4. Chapter 4: Wild Magic

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Harry Potter. I just play with them. No profit is being made. Don't sue me. We're using it all on medical bills at the moment. So all you'll get is lint. Chapter Four: Wild Magic 

Severus staggered, almost falling to his knees as they appeared.

The house looked peaceful in the dark. The Morrigan stood next to him, her arms folded across her chest, staring up at the one window that had thick iron bars across it.

"What did you…"

"They make him work, did you know?" Her voice was soft, silky as snakeskin and as cold as ice. It made him shiver. "All day, from the time the dawn touches the sky until far past the time sick little boys should be in bed."

"He is not a little boy."

She turned dark eyes onto him. "He has never been." She looked away and he could breathe. "Do you like his work? He does know how to make a garden bloom."

Severus snapped his mouth shut, giving the woman a withering glare, but turned his eye to the garden. The moon appeared from behind the veil of clouds that it was hiding behind. The silvery light spilling in past the hedges, illuminating the sleeping flowers.

He blinked at the long rows of blooms. "I thought Potter was merely average in Herbology."

"He hides too much."

He ducked his head. "Perhaps."

The Morrigan moved forward, her eyes staying on the dark window with the bars across it. "That is his room."

Severus followed her gaze and frowned. "Do they think him a criminal?"

"That and more."

He could feel his teeth begin to grind together. "Then we had best free him."

"Indeed."

The locked latch turned under the goddess' hand. Severus followed her inside the house, his lip curling at the pedestrian kitchen. His long nose twitched at the sharp scent of disinfectant that filled the room. Passing through to the hall, he took a moment to stare at the wall of photographs that did not move. Their eerie silence made his skin crawl.

"Muggles," he muttered with a toss of his head. He ran his gaze from picture to picture, his frown growing deeper. "Where is Potter?"

"He is upstairs."

"No, in these."

The Morrigan turned and blinked at the images. "I do not know these things." She shrugged and turned away. "We must hurry."

"Can the muggles hear us?"

"No. They sleep."

"Good."

Together they moved up the stairs. Severus could hear the heavy snores of the sleepers in their rooms. She led him to a door that was peppered with silver locks. He could feel his blood pressure begin to soar.

"Can you…"

The thick click-click-click of the locks seemed loud in the hallway. He listened for the sleepers, but they did not stir. She swung the door open and strode into the dark room. He followed.

The sight of the boy arching off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream made Severus' blood run cold. Potter was clawing at the sheets, digging his heels into the mattress and thrashing his head from side to side. Blood dripped from his eyes, coating a thick trail into the hair over his ears.

Severus didn't flinch as his knees thudded onto the floor next to the bed. He pushed one arm under Potter's shoulders, drawing him close.

"There now, Potter. Stop it. Wake up. It's a dream, that's all. Just a dream. Wake up now. Potter, you idiot child, I swear if you do not wake up this instant…"

The boy gave a small squeak on an indrawn breath that made the Potions Master flinch. Then Potter let out a shallow, sobbing breath, his body going limp.

Severus twisted around to look at the Morrigan. "What is going on?"

The Morrigan's attention was not on him. Her eyes had turned to the wall and a thin line had appeared between her brows. "I must go," she said.

"But how will I…"

She shook her head, a shower of feathers falling around her. "It is…there is…" Her eyes grew dark, then flashed gold. "I can almost _smell_ it."

"Smell what?" But she was gone, the shivering rush of her power gone from the room.

Severus snarled at the place where she had been standing. He turned back to the boy in his arms. He hoisted him up, cradling the limp body close to his chest. He could feel the Ministry's magic begin to push at his skin.

"Potter. Harry. Wake up." He jiggled the boy.

Harry moaned and turned his head. His eyes crept open and stared up at him. "Professor?"

"Where are your things?"

"What?"

He resisted the temptation to shake the boy. "Your books? Your trunk? Your wand?"

Harry turned his face into Severus' chest. The Potion's Master pushed the odd flare of emotion from his mind. _I do not feel parental. I do _not. "Now, Potter. Before the Ministry's protections force me out."

"They're in the shed. Uncle Vernon didn't want me to read my books any…more…" The breathy voice faded out and the boy went limp once more. Severus ground his teeth together, but gathered the boy close and headed out of the house.

He had to put the boy on the ground to get the shed open. A few short spells later he had the child's things stored in his pocket. As he picked Harry up, he heard an alarm begin to sound. From the lack of lights appearing in the houses around the Dursley's, he assumed it was for the wizarding world's ears only.

"How you get yourself into this positions, Potter," he sighed and closed his eyes. They disappeared with a soft pop before the Aurors could arrive.

**qpqpqpqp**

The screams of the children filled the air. Crom Cruach hovered above their bodies, soaking in their despair and pain. The power of their deaths filled him, gave him form, gave him more of his name, his memories, his mind.

He was Crom Cruach. He was the god of death, of life, of all the world. Adulation was his to name, the lust of the women and the men, and the _pain_…

The darkness shivered and formed the outline of a man, tall against the night sky. Dark hair, dark eyes and swarthy skin…he spread his arms and tried to shout. The dark magic pulsed and skittered away from his grasp and his form shattered back into shadow.

_No!_ A furious wind whipped the tress to madness. _No! I will not be denied_! He reached for more, for another body, for another soul to claim. But there was none. The tiny row of houses had been destroyed and all that lived there were dead.

_This will not do_. The trees bent, their limbs tearing away in the face of his wrath. _Chaos take you, Tigernmas! You should not have died to leave me in such a state!_ He pulled what was left of his magical reserves close and lashed out, calling into the Dark. _Masraige, I call you to service! Come my dark priests! I bid thee wake!_

The call went out, shrieking across the sky. Spent, his amorphous form hung limp in the shadows. It swirled, pulling into a small knot of hate and pain. _Wake for me, my dark priests. My dark idols need to live again. And then_…The ball shuddered, rising into the air as the blood and gore cooled on the ground. _Then I will take form and live again. And this world shall be mine as it once was_.

**qpqpqpqp**

Across the narrow sea separating two islands, the call went. It flew over the green land, leaving nightmares in its wake. In the dark, in the damp cold earth of a place that had been forgotten for decades except in scholarly journals, a body woke.

The stiff, dead skin jerked. Leathery eyes opened, seeing loam and worms. The decayed robes shuddered off the bone and patches of dried skin. The last of the Crom priests woke from his long slumber. He turned his hands up, clawing at the dirt that covered him.

_I hear you, my master. I wake and serve._

**qpqpqpqp**

Sirius scowled at the Daily Prophet's headlines. _Voldemort Lives_? Was the headline, the waving letters taking up three inches across the top. The picture underneath showed a wizarding village that had been destroyed. There were blurred lumps decorating the scene, bodies, Sirius could guess.

"How bad is it?"

He looked over the top of the paper at Remus and scowled. "Bad enough. That damn paper is at it again. It claims that Harry never killed the Dark Lord, then goes on to say maybe it was Harry actually killing them all, to maybe it was werewolves, to…" He let out an angry sigh. "You get the picture."

Remus' lips were set in an angry line. "Yes, I do."

Sirius folded the paper and threw it on the table. "I can't believe this nonsense. I mean…"

There was a flare and a thump in the fireplace. Both men frowned and turned, looking at the small floo opening that was for the paper. Sirius rose and took the second paper from the rack and flicked it open. Then he turned white.

_Potter Gone! Another Dark Lord Rises in England!_

Sirius threw it down as though the touch of the print burned him. Remus turned it so he could read the headline. He stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. Their eyes met.

"Sirius…"

The animagus whirled, anger making his body shake. He grabbed a fistful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace.

"Albus Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts!"

The fire flared, turning a violent shade of green. He stepped in and disappeared.

**qpqp**

He arrived to chaos. The Headmaster's office was full of people, both from the Ministry and from the Order. They did not see him arrive.

He tilted his head back and howled. Silence descended. The crowded room turned to look at him.

Sirius stared at the Headmaster. "Where is my godson, you bastard?"

Albus' eyes were hard as they stared back at him. "I do not have him, Sirius Black. And I will not be talked to that way in my own office."

"You miserable son of a…"

The fire flared again and arms wrapped themselves around him. He recognized Moony in the dim part of his brain that was still working.

Dumbledore turned to the people staring at the animagus. "I will address your concerns one at a time. I will thank you to take yourselves from my office and wait in the hall." The Headmaster's tone booked no arguments. The magic of his station forced their feet from the room, down the stairs and out the hidden entrance to his office.

Then he looked at Sirius. "Sirius Black. You of all people should know…"

"_I don't care_!" Sirius lunged at the man, but Remus held him back. "Where is Harry? Where is he? Damn it old man. I _told_ you he needed to be with me! He…"

Albus' hand coming down onto his desk silenced the animagus. Sirius rocked back onto his heels. The look of wrath on the Headmaster's face was something he had never seen before.

Albus leveled a finger at him. "Do not ever doubt my regard for your godson, Mr. Black." The blue eyes were glacial. "Your godson is safe, know that. He was taken from his relatives for his own safety."

"What do you mean?" Sirius pulled at Remus' arm, but the werewolf did not let him go.

"The Morrigan came to us last night. The boy is worse off than you know. Severus took him…"

"That slimy git has him!"

"Enough!" The roar made both men flinch. "Harry is in poor condition. Severus could not take him to St. Mungo's for fear of the Minister's retaliation. It seems as though Severus chose well." Albus leaned his hands onto his desk and sighed.

"He's _my_ godson, Albus."

"And one you did not fight for!" The retort caught the animagus flat footed.

"I did too!"

"You fought only when my avenues were closed to me. Merlin take you, Sirius. Did you not think that with both my petition and yours together things would have gone better to get Mr. Potter out of that house?"

"But…" Sirius blinked at the man. "But…"

Albus sagged and sat, running a hand over his face. He was older than Sirius had ever seen him look. "My influence in the Ministry is almost gone, Sirius. I am an old man. No one listens to old men anymore."

The unwelcome bite of fear touched the back of Sirius' neck. "What's going to happen now?"

Albus closed his eyes. "I will try to control the matter. Harry's whereabouts will remain a secret for now. Even from you." A cold look in his direction made Sirius snap his mouth shut. "As for the accusations in the Daily Prophet…" For the first time, Sirius saw a nasty smile ghost over the Headmaster's face. "I will leave Mr. Malfoy to deal with that."

"But Harry is…"

"Go home, Sirius." Albus pointed a finger at the fireplace. "Go now. I have too many restless members of the press and the Ministry roaming about the castle's halls. I will send for you later when I know more."

Sirius stood his ground.

An odd look entered the older wizard's eyes. "Do not make me force you from this place, Sirius. It would break an old man's heart."

The animagus shivered at the threat. "I will be back," he snapped, trying to shake off his fear. He had felt awe for the old man before, respect, love and even hatred. But he had never feared Albus, until that moment.

"I know you will." The blue eyes were hidden behind the half-moon spectacles. "I know you will." The green flames of the floo were reflected in the glasses. They were the last thing Sirius saw before he stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.

**qpqpqpqp**

The doors to the Daily Prophet shattered from the force of Lucius' rage.

Reporters scuttled out of his way. The blond had a death grip on his cane and there was no power in the world that was going to keep him from his editor's office.

"Rousse!" His roar filled the building.

The door opened and Nicole Rousse stepped forward. She was pale and faint smudges decorated the skin under her eyes. She looked at him and her shoulders sagged. "Mr. Malfoy."

The blond drew in a deep breath, his rage making him want to _rend_ and _maim_. He threw the Prophet's second print run at her feet. "Care to explain this…drivel?"

Her eyes went wide. She dove at the paper, ripping it open. The sound of paper crumpling filled the terrified silence.

She dropped the paper and looked at him. "I'll kill him," she said.

Lucius blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

She folded the paper and then ripped it in half, letting the remains fall to the ground. Her mouth had thinned down into a firm line. "This…this _thing_ is not from the Prophet's press. I would _never_…"

Lucius held up a hand, going still. "Explain. Now."

She raked a hand through her disheveled hair. "There's this man named Dangle. He had a job here as an assistant editor." She reached out and snagged the first day's paper from a shelf. "_This_ was his work. When I woke up and saw the headline I fired him. I thought," she closed her eyes and sighed. "I thought I could control the first headline when I came into the office. But when I got here, I saw that he'd ordered a whole new headline and another print run." She balled the paper in her hands and looked up at him, the shine of tears in her eyes making them look glassy. "Please, Mr. Malfoy. I would _never_…"

Lucius knew he was grinding his teeth, but he could not seem to stop. "Where. Is. He?"

"I don't know." She dashed a hand across her face and drew in a breath. "But when you're done with him, I'd like to stomp his remains into mud. If I may, sir."

Lucius' smile held anything but humor. "You may."

Her smile sliced back at him. "Thank you, sir."

**qpqpqpqp**

Healer Fabing stroked back the dark hair off his patient's forehead and sighed.

"How is he?"

He turned to look at the young blond sitting at his patient's bedside. "I will not lie to you, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter's condition is not good."

Draco Malfoy's eyes were impossible to read in the low light of the room. "I'd like the truth, Healer."

Aaron turned away from the boy. He stared down at Harry. The boy had been weak with blood loss when he first came in. The unconscious state made it easy to pump a transfusion into his body. But the damage he'd seen on the scans…

"His nerves are not regenerating." He did not coat the truth. "His body, his _magic_ is burning through the nutrients in his system. If we do not learn how to control it…" He spread his hands and shrugged. "He will die. His magic will eat him from inside out."

The blond head bowed. "How do we control it?"

Healer Fabing blinked and looked away. "I do not know, Mr. Malfoy." He pushed his hands into his sleeves and wrapped his fingers around his forearms. "Though I wish that I did."

The blond did not answer.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry hit the Dream Road with a muffled grunt.

He pushed himself up with shaky arms. He was on a Path that pulsed under his touch. The magic spread through his hands, ran up his arms and curled through his chest.

"Well, now. This is new."

He looked up. He was in a cavern. The rock walls were dark with soot and shadows. He couldn't see the ceiling. In front of him was a chair carved from a glowing white rock. A woman sat in it, her white robes pooling around her. Raging fires burned in large golden pots on either side of her.

"Draco's going to kill me." It was the first thought that came to him.

She was fair skinned. Her hair was the color of rose gold. Her upturned nose wrinkled as she laughed.

Harry pushed himself into a seated position. The fires gave off no heat that he could feel, but inside…his chest was starting to burn. He could feel the magic inside him, pulsing, pushing, tearing, _screaming_…

He swayed, catching himself with his hands on the ground before he could face plant once more. His vision was full of black and white dots. He heard a rustle that echoed in the cavern. A flash of white appeared at the corner of his eye, but he could not turn his head to look at her. The world had started to spin.

"Child," a cool hand touched his back, making him shudder. "Oh Zeus save us," he heard her breathe.

**qpqp**

Healer Fabing tried to keep the boy on the bed. Harry screamed, blood pouring from his eyes, from his mouth, from his ears…Aaron's hands were covered in it, the dark streaks reaching up to his elbows.

"He's having a seizure!" The young Malfoy was trying to help him hold him down.

"I know that, boy," Aaron spared the breath to snap back. "Get that leather into his mouth before he bites off his own tongue."

"But he won't be able to breathe!"

"Better small breaths through his nose than bleeding out through a severed artery in his tongue!" He shoved the leather-covered stick at the boy. "Do it!"

Draco looked at him, his gray eyes shattered. "He'll snap his teeth."

"We can fix them too! Now _do it_."

**qpqp**

Harry shuddered. "What's happening to me?"

She was crouched at his side. Her hands hovered in the air around him. "You're fighting it. Stop."

"I can't stop if I don't know how I'm doing it in the first place!"

She shuffled closer to him. Tendrils of hair had fallen around her neck. "You don't want it, but the magic is coming anyhow. You have to accept it. It's the only way."

He looked up. Her face swam in and out of focus. "But I'm scared."

Her hazel eyes were shocked, then sad. She reached out and touched his chin, holding his head up. "I'm sorry, boy."

He closed his eyes. "Me too." He bowed his head, his fingers digging into the fine sand beneath him. The magic roared up through his palms, knocking the breath from him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. Everything was white. Everything was black. There was nothing. Nothing…

_Dream Child_. The whisper was so faint he thought he was imagining it. It was the Morrigan's voice. _Dream Child_, another voice whispered. A man's voice. Lugh, his mind supplied. _Dream Child, Dream Child, Dream Child_…The chant spiraled around him. The magic pulsed. Pushed. He felt full to bursting, as though his skin was about to split. He clawed at the dirt, but no air would come. The voices grew in intensity. Other voices, fainter, in languages he didn't recognize picked up the chant.

_Dream Child_. He shook his head. He was tired. He just wanted a home. _Dream Child_. The eyes of the gods haunted his memory. _Dream Child_. The magic wanted him. The magic would take him. And then…and then…

Hot, scalding magic poured down his spine. His back bowed, but still the air would not come. He lost the woman kneeling next to him, his vision going black. He thought he saw a woman in a black robe standing behind her. He saw a shadow of a stag on the wall.

_Child._ It was a singular voice, pushing out all others. His mother's voice, but not hers. He opened his eyes, seeing the cloaked woman standing behind kneeling woman in white. The stag stepped out of the shadows on the wall. The woman in black pushed back her hood.

_It is not your time,_ her mouth did not move though her words ran in his head. She stepped through the frozen woman in white as though she was not there. Danu's eyes were black, speckled with stars. She touched his forehead with the tip of one tapered finger.

_Do not despair, child. It is not time_. She withdrew her hand and knelt, pressing a cold kiss to the skin she had just touched. _Accept it child. Gifts from Wild Magic are not to be refused_. His mother's face was soft with sadness and love.

Harry closed his eyes, the blood hot tears spilling over despite his best efforts to keep them back. He opened his eyes and met her gaze. Her smile was kind.

He let go.

End Chapter Four

A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed! You make my day!


	5. Chapter 5: Pythia

Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter. I make no money off of this. Don't sue me, please.

Chapter Five: Pythia 

The blast took them by surprise.

Wild magic tore through the room, shattering the windows, the bedposts and making the fire in the hearth roar. Draco felt his body lifted from the bed and tossed as though a great hand had swatted him away.

_No!_ He hit the wall and the world trembled as his head snapped back with a resounding _crack_. He slid to the ground, helpless as lightning arced out of the boy on the bed, blasting holes in the wall and ceiling.

_Harry_…he wanted to reach out, but his arm wouldn't obey him. _Harry_…Light pulsed through the room, blue then green then red then white. A form rose up from the boy on the bed, serpentine yet winged. It's great beak clicked and the wicked talons looked as though poised to strike.

Draco's magic surged through him. _It will not end this way_. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't answer. _I will not let you take him from me!_ He reached out with his mind, with his magic, with everything in him that had claimed Harry for his own.

The last traces of the Vision Potion in Draco's system roared to life.

**qpqp**

Visions slammed through Harry's mind. A dark void hovered in front of him. The edge was fragile, slipping under his feet. The path was narrow, so narrow he could barely see it. It wandered out over the cavern, gray and winding, lost amid the flashing sparkles of futures that had come, that were to come, that might come and that would never come.

He struggled to draw in air. The Wild magic roared through him, pushing, pushing, pushing. He could do nothing but take a step, then another and another until he was on the path. He did not dare look down.

The woman in white was crumpled in the sand behind him. Her rose gold hair was in a puddle around her head. He hadn't meant to hurt her…_I don't want to hurt anyone_! He shuddered and tried to take a step back. The Wild magic screamed and he was frozen in place.

Then arms came around him. Heat seared up his back and a familiar scent filled his nose. "I've got you, Harry." The soft voice surrounded him. The strong arms steadied him, caught him as he was about to fall.

"Draco…" He clutched at the arms around him.

"I won't let you fall, Harry. I've got you and I'll never let you go." The strong arms drew him back. The narrow path grew under their feet until it was wide enough for Harry to find his balance.

He turned in the tight embrace and buried his face in the crook between Draco's neck and shoulder. "It's not over," he said.

A hand ran over his hair and drew him closer. "I know," the blond said. "But I'll be here. Remember? I told you I would never leave. I won't let you go through this alone."

Harry curled his hands into the other boy's shirt. "It's coming," he managed to say. Then the Wild magic was on them and there was no more air for words.

**qpqpqpqp**

Lucius held his son in his arms. He counted each breath that made the narrow chest rise and fall. The magic in his son made his arms all but vibrate.

The room looked like a war zone. Severus was on the bed, Harry in his arms, cradled in his lap. The two dark heads were bent close, their hair hiding their faces. Harry twitched in Severus' lap, his hands opening and closing on something they could not see.

Lucius shifted Draco in his arms. He could see his son's eyes moving rapidly under his lids. _Four hundred twenty eight. Four hundred twenty nine._ He closed his eyes and listened to his son breathe. _Four hundred thirty one. Thirty-two._

He had been in the pursuit of the man named Dangle when the wards at Malfoy Manor had gone off. He had not bothered to give Rousse an explanation. His cane had made a mighty crack in the pavement of Diagon Alley as he left for his ancestral home.

He and Severus had arrived at the same time. The Wild magic was still roaring through the room, but it was centered on the two boys. Draco had been on the ground, his body seizing in small jerks as Lucius felt time stop. The Healer Fabing was unconscious near the hearth.

Seconds after they had entered the room, the Wild magic reared up, poised like a snake, and then had struck, slamming into each boy. Lucius felt his heart lurch as emerald colored energy surrounded his son, lifted him up and then threw him to the ground, making his skin glow.

The glow had not dimmed a half hour later. Pale green lights ran under Draco's skin, turning it translucent. The boy shifted and murmured in his arms, making Lucius still. He opened his eyes and looked down at his son.

Draco's nose wrinkled. The pale gray eyes opened and it took everything Lucius had in him to not crush the boy to his chest.

"Father?" Draco's voice was breathy. Then… "Harry!" Arms pushed at his chest, but Lucius did not let go.

"He's alive, Draco." He bowed his head and tightened his grip. "You're both alive."

"But Harry!"

Lucius helped his son into a sitting position, but kept close, one hand planted on the boy's shoulders. He saw Severus look up.

"He lives. He breathes." The Potions Master uncurled his legs from the bed and slid to the ground, his knees giving out as he got off the bed.

Draco crawled towards them, forcing Lucius to move with him. They both looked down at the boy in Severus' arms. Lucius felt his throat grow tight.

Blood was matted in the dark hair. Harry's already pale skin was milk white. The same fading lights pulsed under his skin. Lucius checked his son…The magic was settling and the light show was fading. He let out a breath.

"What in the name of Merlin happened?" Fear, the most unwelcome emotion Lucius had ever felt, made his voice rough.

Draco shook his head and reached for Harry. A spark of energy crackled between them. He drew his hand back. "He was having a seizure. We couldn't get him to stop. Healer Fabing…" There was a moan from the hearth. Lucius looked up to see the healer trying to move into a sitting position. "Fabing said that Harry's magic was eating him up from the inside. Then he just…exploded."

Lucius shuddered and moved closer to his son.

"That's when the Wild magic came. It tossed me like I was nothing. I hit my head…" Draco trailed off and touched the back of his head. "I couldn't do _anything_." His eyes glittered. "My arms and legs wouldn't move. Then there was this…_thing_ poised over Harry and I couldn't, I couldn't…" He bowed his head. "It looked like it was going to kill him. So I pushed back. And then I was gone."

"Gone?" Lucius tried to push away the ball of ice that had formed in his stomach. "What do you mean, gone?"

"I was in the Otherworld." Draco reached for Harry again and Severus let the boy go. _With reluctance_, Lucius noted with a frown at his lover. Severus wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I was in this cave. And at the far end of the cave was Harry. He was standing on this path that looked like a piece of string. He was about to fall." Once Harry was in Draco's arms, the smaller boy shuddered and calmed. "I caught him." Draco looked up at his father, his eyes fierce. "He's _mine_. And I'll never let him fall."

There was a surge of magic between the boys that made Lucius' breath catch. The pupils in his son's eyes seemed to lengthen, grow sharp, and then snap back to normal.

He reached out and laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "You did well," he managed to say. He caught Severus' eye. His lover nodded, a dark, worried frown already on his face. "Then what happened?"

Draco drew in a deep breath. "Then, it happened." He shrugged, looking past them at the wall. "It was Wild magic. It was all around us. It wanted Harry. For what, I don't know. But I wouldn't let it hurt him. It couldn't rip him out of my arms." There was an odd shimmer of the air around the two boys. "Some of it hit me, went into me. Most of it went into Harry."

"What was it?"

Draco shrugged. "Magic. Visions." He blinked and looked at Lucius. "I couldn't really see them. I think they were everything that might happen. Could happen. Had already happened. I don't know. It was like looking into a field of stars."

"An apt description."

The new voice made them all turn. Lucius saw Draco draw Harry closer to him. The almost feral snarl that graced his son's face was disturbing.

A woman in white stood between them and Healer Fabing. Her robes were dirty and her hair was falling about her shoulders. She smiled. "I'm Pythia," she said.

**qpqpqpqp**

The Crom priest dragged himself across the bog. The foul stench rising from what used to be his body chased the creatures away. He used his arms to pull himself forward, his legs useless.

His god was across the narrow sea. He could still hear the call; it warmed his cold flesh and made his mind buzz. His god was alive. The Bright and Dark gods had not vanquished him completely. And now he had to rise, rise and serve.

He came upon a hard, black substance. It stretched out north and south as far as he could see. _A mortal Path_? He patted the warm substance. _A remarkable thing_.

Out of the north he saw a light approaching. He pushed up on his hands, staring. _A god? What kind of creature shines so bright_? It was fast, he could tell. He could hear a muffled roar in the distance. _A dragon?_

He pulled himself to the center of the road. He would conquer this new beast for his god. There would be no power in all the world that could stop him.

The auto did not see his body until too late. The shiny silver grill impacted with his face, crushing the fragile soul and sending the remains of the body flying through the air.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry woke to people talking. His head was full of a buzzing noise – _Is that Aunt Petunia? It doesn't sound like her_. He struggled to open his eyes. They seemed glued together. His body ached in ways he didn't know existed.

He took in a deep breath and let it out. The hard, lumpy surface he was lying on shifted. "Harry?" A familiar voice asked.

Harry moved his mouth, but no sound emerged. More than one set of hands helped him into a sitting position. A vial was set against his lips. He drank and made a face at the taste. The Pepper-Up Potion swept through his body. He unglued his eyes.

Draco was staring down at him. Harry thought for a wild moment that the blond's pupils were slit and scattered with stars. Then he blinked and the vision went away. He looked beyond the other boy, noticing the other adults in the room.

With Draco's help he was transferred to a chair. Lucius Malfoy gave him a cool stare that was ruined by the hint of concern in his gaze. His Potions Professor wouldn't look at him. Harry felt something in his stomach clench at the avoided gaze; the professor knew something, but Harry couldn't place just what it was.

He smiled at Healer Fabing. The older man looked haggard and had an icepack held to the back of his head. He met Harry's eyes and smiled back at him, wincing as the action split the cut on his lip. Harry had a moment to wonder why the Healer hadn't taken the time to magic the wound closed.

The last figure in the room stepped into Harry's direct line of sight. It was the woman from his vision. Her rose-gold hair was hanging about her shoulders. She planted her hands on her hips.

"You, young man, are in a lot of trouble."

He blinked at her. "I didn't destroy the Dursley's house, did I?"

She blinked back at him. "Who are the Dursley's?"

Harry looked past her to Professor Snape. "Sir? What…" He had to stop. His lungs felt like they were full of fluid. He leaned against the side of the chair and coughed. A hand appeared with a handkerchief. He hacked and spat, folding the napkin before anyone could see the reddish-brown color of the mucus.

"Harry?"

He looked up to see Draco kneeling next to him. "What did I do?"

The woman sighed. "I go for humor and I get drama." She touched his shoulder and turned him back to face her. "Child, you're not in trouble. Or at least not a lot."

"He's not in _any_ trouble," Draco fired back at her.

She wrinkled her nose at the blond. "You might want to talk to your fathers before you say that."

That was when Harry registered the destruction around him. He looked at the elder Malfoy. "I did this?" He waved a hand at the burnt bedding and the blasted holes in the walls.

"You did not." Professor Snape spoke before Lucius could. The Potions Master rose from his chair and stepped to Harry's side. "It seems as though the Wild Magic decided that it was time to give you your coming-of-age gifts."

Harry let his eyes drift as he thought. "Yes." He blinked and looked up at the woman. "I remember. I was asleep, but not asleep. I was in cave. With you."

The woman nodded and drew the ottoman close so she could sit. "That's right, Harry. May I call you Harry?"

He nodded, dazed.

"Good." She smiled at him. "My name is Pythia. I was the head Oracle at the temple to Apollo at Delphi." Her hands ran across the thick white robe she was wearing. The golden clasps at her shoulders gleamed in the light of the room. "I am a seer, Harry." She leaned forward. "I was the one kings and heroes went to in times of need. It is a powerful gift that the Wild Magic has given you, Harry."

"But…" Harry licked his lips and glanced at Draco. "I'm not a seer. I told you already. I don't want it."

Her eyes were sad. "And I told you that the magic would have its way." She reached out and put a hand over his. "Harry, it will be all right."

He shook his head. "It wasn't alright when I was taking the Vision Potion." He saw Professor Snape turn away and the ball of ice in his stomach grew. "I didn't know what I was doing. It almost killed me."

He blinked at her smile. "That's because you didn't have me." She patted his hand and leaned back. "You see, Harry. Your friends have told me about what happened at the end of your school year. You and this Slytherin House did more than wake the gods up, I think." Her eyes glittered. "I think you have also woken those who were servants of the gods as well."

Harry looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry?"

Her laughter rang like chimes through the room. He looked up. "Don't be," she shook her head. "Harry, I have not lived for almost two thousand years." She brushed a strand of hair off her face. "It shall be glorious to exist again."

Harry managed a smile back at her. "So…" He said after a moment. "You'll teach me, right?" He swallowed down his fear and sat forward. "How to control what the Wild Magic gave me?"

"I'll teach you both." Harry saw Draco start and look at the woman.

"Both?" The blond asked. Lucius sat forward, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes, both." Pythia stood and walked to the fire. "Oracles must have a guide. A protector. The strength when the world of might-be's becomes more real than the world that is." Her eyes reflected silver light as she stared at the flames. She turned to look at Harry. "Your Draco has already declared himself as your protector. That means he must understand what you are going through."

"Where's yours?" Harry asked.

"Back in the cave, probably going mad with trying to get out." She wrinkled her nose at him. Her form was starting to fade. "You will need to come to me, I'm afraid. I do not have the power I once did to travel back and forth from the Otherworld to the mortal one with ease."

"But how do I do that?"

She crossed the room and knelt at his side. "To find me, picture the cave you first saw me in. Do you remember it?"

Harry closed his eyes and tried to recall the image. "Yes."

"You remember the Path you appeared on?"

"Yes."

"Only Oracles and their protectors can find and follow that Path, Harry."

He opened his eyes as she touched his chest. "But how do we get there in the first place?"

Her hand spread heat into his chest. "The Path is here, Harry." Her eyes were full of lights Harry could not name. "You must trust yourself first to find me. Then, we can begin." With that she was gone, her image fading away like mist in the morning sun.

Harry covered the spot she had touched with his hand. He could still feel the heat of her skin. "But I do trust myself." He looked at Draco. "Don't I?" He shook his head.

Draco stood and looked towards his father. "Perhaps food would be good?"

"Indeed." Healer Fabing spoke for the first time. His eyes were focused on Harry. "I think we've had enough mystical conversation to last us until dinner. And I," he paused to take the ice pack away from the back of his neck. "Would much like a chance to regain the energy I have lost."

"Were you…did I hurt you too?" Harry chewed on his lower lip.

The Healer shook his head. "No, boy. I'd say the magic hurt me more than you did." He put his hands on his knees and stood, making a face as his joints popped and snapped. "Now," he cast a look that encompassed them all. "The Healer's orders are food and rest for all of you. Especially you," he leveled a finger at Harry. "And I don't care what that woman said, you'll not set foot in the Otherworld until I say so, is that clear?"

Harry flushed. "Yes, sir."

The Healer winked at him. "Good." He limped from the room.

Lucius got to his feet and gestured to his son. "Come, Draco. A host should never leave his guests."

"But…"

"Now, Draco."

The younger blond stared at his father. Harry missed whatever expression passed across Lucius' face. His own gaze was on the other boy.

"Harry." The blond turned and looked down at him. "I'll be right back. Do you want anything in particular?"

He shook his head.

Draco frowned, but kept his mouth shut. He moved towards his father, looking back every second step as though to make sure Harry had not disappeared. Harry stared back at him, wanting him to stay, but hating himself for the small selfish voice that had started up again in the back of his head.

"Mr. Potter." The Potion Master's voice was rough with an emotion Harry couldn't place. The man still had his back to Harry, so the boy couldn't read his expression.

"Yes, sir?"

Professor Snape turned. His eyes were shadowed by the hair hanging in front of his face. "Would you care to enlighten me why you said _nothing_ of how your muggle relatives treated you during the summer?"

Harry shrank down in his seat. "There was nothing anyone could do about it. The Minister…"

"Would have had his whole platform burnt to ashes if the wizarding world had learned of the deplorable conditions you existed in!"

"That's why I don't want them to know!" Harry shouted back at the man. He paled and shut his mouth with a snap. "I'm sorry, Professor."

The dark eyes glittered. "Mr. Potter. You are a very irritating boy."

"I know, sir." He looked down at his hands.

"You're never going back there."

"That's what Sirius said."

"I have a sight more sense than that mongrel."

Harry frowned at the man. "That's my godfather, sir."

Snape made a curt motion with his hand and turned away. He folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes and faced the fire. "If I have my way…" He let out a sigh. "Potter, you should have said something."

"I couldn't. Then everyone would have known. And," he caught his lower lip between his teeth, then let it go. "And they would have, I don't know. Pitied me or something. I didn't want that."

"_Pity_? You think…" The narrow shoulders hunched as Professor Snape bowed his head. "Mr. Potter. I want your sworn oath that should anything, _anything_ ever happen to you that even smells of abuse, you will come to me immediately."

"I wasn't abused!" Harry pushed himself forward in his seat. "Sure the Dursley's were awful, but it wasn't abuse. It wasn't!"

The professor turned, the slow glide making Harry's skin crawl. "Really now, Potter? You mean to say that all muggles treat their children as though they were house elves? That they make them work from sun up to sun down? Make them cook, clean and sleep in a room that isn't fit for an animal, much less a growing wizard?"

Harry shook his head. "It wasn't like that." He swallowed. "They…the Dursley's didn't like me, that's true. But they didn't hurt me."

A thick silence hung between them. "We shall see about that, Mr. Potter." Professor Snape unfolded his arms and stepped towards him. "Come now. Can you walk?"

The abrupt change of topic left Harry blinking. "I…I don't know." He looked down at the floor. He braced his hands against the armrests and pushed. For a minute nothing happened. Then…

"Well, this is silly." Harry felt the world sway around him.

A strong hand caught him under the elbow. "I have you, Mr. Potter. I will not let you fall."

"I thought that was Draco's job."

"Young Mr. Malfoy will not always be able to be at your side, no matter how he would have it." With his professor's help, Harry made it out the door and down the hall. "You must accept that there will be others who will be there to help you, in whatever way you need."

The ball of ice in Harry's stomach eased. "Thank you, sir."

"Do not thank me, Mr. Potter. It is merely the truth."

Harry ducked his head to hide his smile. He also didn't complain as the older man helped him down the stairs, one step at a time.

End Chapter Five

A/N: Thank you all for the lovely reviews!


	6. Chapter 6: Conversations

Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter. I'm not making money off of this story. Don't sue me, please.

Chapter Six: Conversations 

Sirius paced the length of the formal dining room. The table was in splinters, the chairs were overturned and the sideboard was half in and half out one of the large windows that lined the room.

Remus was watching his lover from the door. He had his arms crossed over his chest to hide the tremors in his hands. Sirius' rage was close to calling the wolf that slept in his blood; every time the animagus shattered another object, the wolf came closer to coming out.

"This is impossible!" Sirius stopped pacing. He put his hands on the heavy oak mantle and let his chin drop to his chest. "Harry…he…" The animagus gulped down a few breaths. "This can't be happening."

Remus wanted to agree. Remus wanted to be smashing things along with his lover. But that was not what Sirius needed at the moment.

"The Headmaster says he's in a safe place," he pointed out.

"_This_ is a safe place," Sirius roared back.

Remus winced. "I know that."

The animagus sighed and raised his head. "I'm sorry, Moony."

Remus pressed his lips together and said nothing.

"It's just…every time I think something is going to work out with Harry, something snatches it from my grasp." Sirius held his hands in front of his face. "It's like some sick joke. To put him so close and then to snap him away again."

"The Minister hasn't responded?"

"Of course he has. But the letters never say anything I want to hear. They're _looking into the disappearance_," the animagus dropped his hands and snorted. "Of course the last letter I got said Harry had left the house voluntarily."

Remus went still. "What?"

"Haven't you been reading the papers?"

"No." Remus hadn't been able to look at a newsprint for days. The incendiary reports all called the wolf too close to the surface.

Sirius righted one of the chairs and sank into it. He buried his face in his hands. "The Minister has lost his platform of good family values since Harry's gone and that massacre in Portsmouth. He's changed his stance to one of fear mongering. He's boasting that he was the Minister that got us through the Second War and that he would be able to get us through this 'new dark time'." Bitterness dripped from the last three words.

"What new dark time?"

"Fudge hasn't the balls to out Harry as a new Dark Lord, but the press is doing it for him." Sirius let out a laugh that was half sob. "All the papers but the Daily Prophet have joined the speculation game. We need Harry, Remus. Then we need a press conference and a crew of public relations people."

Remus chanced a step into the room. "Surely people can't be that stupid." He approached the other man. "Harry died to save the world. A god's mercy brought him back. The people must remember that." He placed a hand on the other man's shoulder.

Sirius turned and wrapped his arms around Remus' waist, burying his face in the werewolf's stomach. "They have to remember, Moony. Something has to be done."

Remus put a hand on the dark hair. He stared out the broken window, eyes unfocused. "They'll remember, Padfoot. Have a little faith. You'll see."

**qpqpqpqp**

Sasha pushed her way through the crowd. Her cousin was behind her somewhere; the rotund man was too timid to shove elbows, feet and hands into people to get them to move. Sasha had no such qualms.

The man on the soapbox continued to speak. "For decades the wizarding world has been subject to one oppressive Dark Lord after another! It is because we have lost our faith in the word of God! We must come back to the faith! Even now, when all these false idols arise and conjure dark magic, dark desires of our hearts, we must be strong. See how God has forsaken us in this our hour of betrayal to Him! We have turned our backs to His word and behold another Dark Lord has risen…"

She had a clear shot. She pointed the wand she had purchased in Knockturn Alley at the man. "Sil…"

A hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled against the hold, kicking back with her shoes and scratching at the hand and face of the person holding her. She was pulled into a side alley and let go. She spun around. "How dare you…"

Seamus had red marks decorating his hands and cheeks. "Hi, Sasha," he said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you doing? You interrupted me! I was going to…"

"Get yourself killed." He butted in.

"He's spouting lies!"

"He's surrounded five deep by people who believe that he's speaking for the one God."

"Like you?"

He looked stricken and Sasha closed her eyes. "Seamus…"

"You of all people know me better than that."

"I'm sorry."

"After all I did…"

"Would you shut up!" Sasha opened her eyes and glared at him. "I said I was sorry!" She had her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

His smile caught her by surprise. "That's the Sasha I remember."

"Gryffindors!" The word was supposed to come out as a curse.

He bowed.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned away. "So what were _you_ doing here?"

"I was going to curse the bastard, just like you."

"Why did you stop me then?"

He stepped close and took her elbow. He guided her to the end of the alley. "One curse would make him a martyr. But look over there." He pointed towards the ice cream shop. Sasha recognized a bunch of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, most of them having been six and seventh years with her. "Watch what they're about to do."

"How do you know…"

As one, the students stood, drew their wands and cast. Words in Potter's defense rose into the air, some of the charms animating into speech as the adults on the street began to help. Soon the lone man's ranting was drowned out by a hundred voices, leaving him in an irate silence.

Sasha rocked back onto her heels. "Well then," she muttered. "That's much better."

"See? By taking him out, it would have given the man some credence." Seamus was standing close to her side. "And his crowd of interested people would have torn both me and you apart. They can't attack the others because there's too many."

Sasha pursed her lips and nodded. "You're right." She gave him a narrow look. "Don't get used to it."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Sasha!" Her cousin's voice was a thin note amongst the cacophony that lingered in the street. She let out a breath and turned to the boy.

"I have to go."

He touched her face, cupping her cheek with one large hand. "I've missed you."

She swallowed. "I missed you too."

"I'll see you soon?"

"Of course."

"Sasha!"

She shook her head. "I have to go."

Seamus leaned down and kissed her. She curled her hands into his robes, the voice of her cousin fading from her mind. Seamus drew back, his face flushed. "You should go."

"I…" Her hands were not obeying her.

He helped her pry them away from his robes. "I'll see you soon." He stepped away, the blush on his face fading. "Be careful," he said.

She swallowed and nodded. "You too," she whispered, turned and ran to where her cousin was waiting. She didn't look back.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry's new room was next door to Draco's, the old one having been too damaged for him to stay in. Draco had been quick to install Harry in the bedroom closest to him.

Harry had not seen much of the Manor since. Professor Snape had been adamant that he stay in bed, eat and regain his strength. And to drink all the potions the man brought to his room. Harry did as he said, but never told the man that all his potions were not working.

He was sitting on one of the plush wing-backed chairs when Snape entered the room. He knew it was the Potions Master by the precise triple knock; Draco barely knocked at all and the older Mr. Malfoy had never visited Harry in his room.

Harry put down the book he was studying. They stared at each other for a long moment before he dropped his gaze and looked towards the roaring fire.

"I have brought your potions," Professor Snape said.

"Thank you, sir."

The man moved further into the room, setting the line of vials on the small table by Harry's elbow. He folded his hands into his sleeves and stared at Harry.

"What?"

"You have not regained your color."

"Well, I've been indoors."

Professor Snape looked away. "They are not working, are they." It wasn't a question.

"No, sir," Harry said after a moment.

Snape turned and took the other seat in the room. "I did not believe Healer Fabing at first. These potions should be restoring your nerves. But," the man broke off with a terse sigh. "We shall have to try something different."

Harry closed his book. "It's possible they will never get better." Healer Fabing had not coated the truth for him.

The older man shook his head. "I do not believe that, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked away. "It's better to be prepared for the worst."

"But that does not mean to give up hope."

Harry laughed. "I didn't think you were an optimist, sir."

Severus frowned. "You need not be so formal, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged. "What would you have me call you, then?"

The Potions Master did not reply. Instead he stared into the fire and folded his hands in his lap. 'There are several treatments I have read about that we may try." He swallowed. "Harry."

The boy blinked. "What kind of treatments?"

"Experimental potions. I have several contacts in the Potions world. Many who have specialized in Healing." He gave a graceful shrug. "They would know more than I."

"That…would be good."

"Have you thought any more on what we were discussing yesterday?"

Harry tried to keep a clamp on his temper. The older man would not give up his search. "I wasn't abused."

"You should still speak to someone about what you have experienced."

"I don't know why you keep badgering me about this." Harry shifted in his seat. "All you have is a guess and against my word and the Dursley's, it won't hold up."

"I do not have a guess, Harry."

"Really?" Harry's control on his temper broke. "Then how do you know?"

The Potion Master's glittering gaze made Harry's skin crawl. "Your memories, Mr. Potter. They are in the forefront of your mind every time we speak of this."

"You," Harry surged out of his seat. The world tilted until strong hands caught him. He jerked away. "What, you read my mind? Is that what all these potions were for?" He tried to step away, but had to catch himself against the back of a chair. Severus let his go. "You had no right to snoop around in my mind!"

"Mr. Potter. Harry," Severus took a step towards him. "I am a Legilimens. It means I can see your thoughts when you speak to me. They are there for any to read who have the talent. The Headmaster, for example." The man's mouth twisted into a sneer. "He knew how you felt. He knew how you would react to certain…stimuli. He played on your hopes, fears and this ridiculous notion that you alone must save the world that he has instilled in you."

"You still had no right!" Harry looked away from the dark eyes. He missed his glasses for a long moment. They had helped to keep a barrier between him and the world at times.

"Harry…"

"No." Stumbling, he turned away and made for the window. His legs were trembling and he felt weak. "If you can read my mind, then you know they never hit me. So I'm not abused and you can just shut up about it!" Shocked, he clicked his mouth shut, hunched his shoulders and waited for the man's explosion.

Instead he got two warm hands on his shoulders, guiding him back to his chair. "Harry." Severus knelt in front of his chair so they were eye level with each other. "There are many types of abuse in this world. Neglect is just as damaging as the others. Your relatives had no right to treat you as they did."

"Have you known all along?" Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Severus shook his head. "I have never read you, Mr. Potter. I do not go around rummaging through children's minds. I suffer enough of their foolishness when they speak out loud."

That drew a grudging laugh from the boy. He quickly sobered. "Sir," he sighed. "It really wasn't that bad."

The dark eyes never broke from his. "You and I know that is a lie."

Harry could feel a hot flush spread across his face. "I can't…" He pressed his lips together and looked away. "You won't tell Draco, will you?"

"I would not betray your secret."

"But you still want me to talk to someone?"

"Yes."

"But not you."

"I…would not be ideal."

Harry balled his hands into his robes. "They'll think I'm crazy or something."

"Who will?"

He shrugged. "Everyone."

Severus opened his mouth and then closed it. A glint entered his eyes. "Would you consent to talk to Healer Fabing? Or perhaps Auror Rayne?"

"Them? But…" Harry frowned. "Healer Fabing is a regular Healer, isn't he? And Auror Rayne's gotten into enough trouble because of me."

"Aaron has some experience in counseling. As for Auror Rayne," Severus shrugged. "All Aurors go through training."

Harry felt hope bloom in his chest. "That…" He caught his lower lip between his teeth. "I could do that."

"Which would you prefer?"

Harry hesitated. "Auror Rayne…if he agrees," he added.

Severus stood. "Excellent." His hands disappeared once more into his robes. "And…if for any reason you are uncomfortable with either of these men, we will find someone else whom you do like. Even myself, although I shall warn you now I do not have much experience. But we will figure it out, nonetheless."

"Thank you, sir." Harry kept his eyes locked on his knees. A hand made contact with his shoulder, squeezed and let go. By the time Harry looked up, the older man was gone.

**qpqpqpqp**

Lucius had sight of his prey.

Nicole was at his side, a grim expression on her face. "What now, Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius rapped his cane on the ground. "I want a diversion."

She blinked at him. "What?"

The pale eyebrows drew together. "Do try to be intelligent, Ms. Rousse. I know you have the wits for it. I want a distraction."

She narrowed her eyes as she looked out over the crowd. The busy bustle of Diagon Alley washed over them. "The Daily Prophet has not had a lottery drawing for some time," she ventured.

"A thousand galleons. Make it quick."

She nodded and turned on her heel, bolting through the back door of the Prophet offices. Lucius stayed in the shadows, his eyes never leaving the man who had started the ruckus that had set his plans on hold.

Since the man Dangle's disastrous post in the Prophet, Lucius' attempt to purchase the land needed for a temple had been in vain. Public opinion was swinging wildly throughout the wizarding world as Fudge and Scrimgeour debated for the position of Minister. Lucius had not been pleased.

Since Dangle had been fired, he had put out his own paper, called The Wizard's Truth. The contents, Lucius had read, were pure fabrication as best as he could tell. The man was taking money from Fudge – that much Lucius' contacts at the Ministry had turned up. The propaganda of hate and fear that blasted through the man's paper had stirred up problems for many people and their causes. The call for a temple to all gods had been a particular target, as well as the mental and moral status of one Mr. Harry Potter.

Lucius had decided that enough was enough.

A sudden burst of noise from the Daily Prophet's front entrance did not make him flinch. He listened as an enthusiastic Rousse used a _sonorus_ charm to gather people for the money drawing. Dangle stayed at his seat on the café patio, a distasteful sneer plastered across his face.

Once the street was clear of witnesses, Lucius made his move. Placing a notice-me-not spell over the café and its patio, he was on the man before Dangle could react.

He had his cane across the plump neck and a knee in the man's groin, pinning him to the ground. Dangle gurgled, whined and went white, his eyes rolling in his head as Lucius put more weight across the length of his cane.

"Mr. Dangle," Lucius purred. "I'm so glad to have caught you." He smiled and the man fainted.

**qpqpqpqp**

The Morrigan had her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

The scent she had caught was gone. It was a foul scent, like carcasses rotting in the sun. The smell unsettled her, but she could not place why. Her memories were still full of holes and she knew the information she needed was there, somewhere.

_Morrigan_?

Her head came up at the soft tendril of thought. Her dream child was calling her, the first time he had ever reached out voluntarily. She pushed the troubling thoughts aside, focused on the boy and stepped Away.

She found the boy curled up on a chair in front of a fire that had almost burned itself out. He had dark circles under his eyes and a miserable expression on his face.

"Child?" She was at his side in a second.

He turned to her and she saw the unshed tears in his eyes. She touched the dark hair. "What has happened? Are you alright? Has…"

He threw his arms around her and buried his face where her shoulder met her neck. Stunned, it took her a moment to respond. It was long enough to make the boy tense and try to pull away. She wrapped her arms around him and drew his close.

"Harry. Oh child. What is wrong?" She ran a hand over the dark, silky hair.

"I don't…I just…" The boy drew in a shuddering breath. "I didn't know who else to talk to and, and…"

She drew him off the chair. "Tell me," she said.

"I agreed to talk to Auror Rayne."

"The blond man who would watch your house."

"Yes."

"And?"

"Professor Snape…he…he knew…"

"About those relatives of yours?"

"You knew too?" The plaintive note in the boy's voice made her sigh.

"Harry, I am a god. I see the truth in the souls of men. I knew from the moment I met you."

The thin arms tightened around her neck. "Snape made me, well, he didn't make me. But he wants me to talk to someone, and I said I would, but now it's just…"

The Morrigan rested her chin on top of the dark hair. "Now that you've made the decision, all of the memories are coming back?"

"Yeah."

"And then you called me."

"I'm sorry."

She drew away so she could see his face. "Why ever for?"

He tried to move away. She didn't let him. "I…you're probably busy. I just didn't know…"

"No, no." She tucked him against her side. "I wasn't busy at all." A flick of power made the fire roar up. "Now. You are confused?"

He paused. "A little."

"About what happened to you?"

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Sort of. I mean, it wasn't that bad. There are a lot more that have it worse than me. I shouldn't," he shook his head and trailed off.

"Trauma is trauma." She turned her eyes to the flames. "There is no rank to it. One does not trump the other."

He drew in a long, slow breath. "Then why do I feel so stupid?"

"Do not use that word, child. You are anything but."

"Then," the boy frowned. "Then what am I feeling?" He shrugged. "It feels like I shouldn't be talking about this. I feel like people are just making too much of it. I feel…" The boy sat up. "Ashamed?" He blinked and looked at her. "Why do I feel ashamed?"

She nodded. "That is a good question. May I tell you a story?"

He gave her a look, but nodded.

She settled back against the chair. "In my day, such things were not common. There were some bad parents, yes. And life was much more difficult, but the people knew that if they transgressed across the lines of propriety, they would be punished. And the children then also knew that there would always be god that would answer their prayers and intercede on their behalf."

"Really?"

"Yes." She slid an arm across his shoulders and shifted. "But, when the people's faith faded, the gods slept. And they could no longer answer the prayers of the people and especially the children. Then the One God's priests came and hammered the thought that children are the property of their parents and as such, had to honor and obey them no matter what."

"That's horrible."

"Indeed. Now, the priests of the One God's rule of thought has shaped this world. So deeply that the idea of a child being punished by their parents, or relatives, is taken as a matter of course, no matter how severe that punishment is."

"But…"

"I am not finished." She pulled on a strand of his hair. "Now, this idea that the children deserve whatever they get from their elders has become ingrained in the world. You learn it as you suck down your mother's milk. It is a silent rule and one that needs to be shattered."

"Do you think it will?"

"The gods are back, Harry. The children – all the children – have someone to call on, even though they may not know our names." She brushed a kiss across the top of his head. "You helped that happen, child. Keep that in mind every time you feel ashamed. It is a false reaction to an attitude that is beyond barbaric. And that no matter how small you think it is, such actions should _never_ have taken place. Never."

She could feel him draw in a breath and then burrow deeper into her side. "Thank you," the words were soft.

She rested her cheek against his hair. "Do not thank me for the truth, child." She smiled and watched the flames twist in the hearth. "I shall always be here should you need me. I will always listen."

The boy said nothing, but stayed close to her side. Together they watched the red-gold fire burn, the light from the fire reflecting off the scattered points of light in their eyes.

End Chapter Six

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!


	7. Chapter 7: Learning How To Walk

Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter. I just play with the characters. I make no money off of this, please don't sue me. Chapter Seven: Learning How to Walk 

Everything was dark. Harry put his hands out in front of his face, but he couldn't see them. He shuffled forward. His feet were bare; the ground was warm, sandy under his toes. He could hear his movements echoing back at him, as though he was in an enormous cavern.

There was a sound to his left. Then another to his right. Soon there was a racket of noise all around him. He turned, turned again, trying to place the sound. He put his hands out as though to ward off a blow, but he didn't know where, or from whom, it was going to come from. If it was going to come at all.

He felt sick to his stomach. The spinning sensation didn't stop when he told his feet to halt their movement. He fell to his knees, but world seemed to move on its own. It was like the time when his Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley and him to the park, where the carousel ride had been. Harry had hated the ride, but Dudley had wanted to go again and again and again…

There was a rasping sound, as though something great and heavy moved over the sand. Harry stared into the darkness and saw nothing. The sound was coming closer. The sand under his hands began to tremble.

"Who's there?" Harry's voice was lost in the cacophony of sound.

The presence was close, he knew it. He scuttled backwards, trying to get away, but the presence was in front of him, behind him, _next_ to him…He swung at it, but his fist passed harmlessly through air, touching nothing.

"Who's there?" His shout made the racket grow louder. "Stop it! Just stop it! Who's there? Damn you, answer me! Answer me!" His own voice rang in his ears, the demand and question seeming to grow louder and louder. He covered his ears with his hands, but that did nothing to stop it.

The floor dropped out from under him.

Light flashed into the abyss. Harry raised his hand to his watering eyes; they were images, some black and white, some in full color, some in just reds and greens. They passed by him too fast to catalogue.

One image was of his body laying broken on the ground.

Draco, bent and bloody, nailed to a giant wooden post.

Snape with a vicious axe in his hands and a mad sneer twisting his face.

Sirius screaming at him in the parlor of a room Harry did not recognize.

Remus turning away from him, anger and pity warring for dominance on his face.

Harry shook his head, gasping for breath. He pushed out with his hands, wanting to chase the images away. But the moment his hands touched them, he was sucked in.

_"This is useless, Harry! I won't stand for it any longer. You have to choose. Your lies or me." Sirius' face was twisted into an ugly expression. Harry bowed his head, hands clenched at his sides. _

_"I choose_…"

The scene shifted, tearing past Harry before he could catch the rest of his words.

_Draco was standing over the body of Ron Weasley. "You owe what remains of your sanity to Harry Potter. Believe that, Weasel, and please," Harry could see the blond's eyes glint in the dim light. "Know that I would have happily incinerated you where you lie if it wasn't for him." The blond flicked his wand over Ron and the spiders disappeared._

Harry shuddered and tried to roll away. He fell into another image instead.

_There were adults all around him; healers in green robes, in yellow robes, blue, black and red. They were all shouting questions at him, some of them pushing vials at him. A pair of blue robed men came up and wrapped thick white straps around Harry's arms and upper body. They pulled down his eyelids and put in thick, milky drops. His world was blurry, it was spinning and all knew he was that they were never, never going to let him go_…

"Harry!"

**qpqpqpqp**

Draco sat on the edge of the bed as the green lightning arched off the bedposts, the walls and ceiling. None of the magic touched his skin. He kept a careful grip on the boy's shoulder as Harry came awake, his bloody tears making his face an awful mask of white skin and rusty despair.

"Come on, Harry." He had tried shaking the boy. He had tried shouting. Now he tried waiting, even though he was ready to start ripping at his own skin.

The green eyes fluttered, opened and then slammed shut.

Draco leaned forward. "I saw that, Harry. I know you're awake."

The dark head turned away. "I didn't mean to wake you."

The blond made himself comfortable on the bed. "I was already awake," he lied.

"It was just a…nightmare."

"Liar."

A hint of a smile played at the corners of Harry's mouth. "I'm a Slytherin, remember? We don't lie, we obfuscate."

"Tell me. It was a vision, wasn't it?"

"It was nothing."

Draco drew in a deep breath, telling himself not to shout at the boy. "Harry, I can't protect you if you don't tell me what is wrong."

"There's nothing wrong."

The spark of anger flared into a storm. "Don't you dare lie to me, Harry Potter." He reached out and grabbed the boy's arm. He did not shake, or pull, but let the skin on skin connection shock the other boy into opening his eyes. "I am _here_, Harry. I'm not going to go away. So don't you shut me out. Or, or…" He frowned and his expression grew dark. "Or I'll go brew myself a vial of the Vision Potion and take it all in one dose. So then I _will _be able to follow you even when you don't want me to."

"No!" Harry surged up into a sitting position. "You can't!"

"I can't?" The gray eyes glittered. "Why not?"

"Because!"

"Because why?"

"Because then you'll be ruined!" Harry looked shocked as the words came out of his mouth. He colored and turned his face away.

"Ruined, Harry?" Draco let his expression soften. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know what I mean."

"Liar."

Harry let out a long breath. "I'm…ruined in a way, can't you see it?" The green eyes turned back to Draco. The blond caught his breath. The gaze was clear, but almost blind by the lights in his eyes. "You're a Malfoy, Draco. You," the pale face went red. "You mean more to me than I could ever say. But I'm useless to you. Look at me." A thin hand waved over the bloody covers and the trembling limbs. "You're destined for greater things than some invalid that you care more for than you should."

Draco could feel his hands clenching in the covers. "You shut up," he said.

Harry blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"You'll get it, this once." He leveled a finger at the boy, his anger and frustration and fear making him shake. "I don't know what happened when you went home this summer, but it'll never happen again. I can make up my own bloody mind, Harry Potter. The things I've chosen for myself are things that I want, and no one, not even you, will be able to get me to let them go. So you better get used to the idea that I'll be around for a very long time, at your side whether you're an invalid or not. I don't care about that."

"Your father does."

"My father doesn't understand what's going on, which makes him cranky." Draco frowned at the memory of his father shouting at him in the downstairs library. "Very cranky. But that doesn't mean that he won't come around."

"Come around to what?" Harry met his gaze. "I can barely walk. How will I get to class?"

"We'll think of some way."

"And this?" Harry held out his hand with an unpleasant smile. The limb shook so hard he had trouble gripping Draco's arm. "How am I supposed to cast spells like this?"

"Are you _done_ being sorry for yourself?" Draco finally exploded.

"What?"

"This is…what? You looking for pity or trying to scare me away? The first you won't get and the second won't happen. So what's going on?"

"I just want to be left alone!"

Both of them looked shocked at the outburst. Draco eased back down on the bed. "Why?"

Harry looked away. "Just… never mind, Draco. Just leave me alone."

"No."

"Go."

"I can't, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Because."

The dark haired boy let out a wheezing laugh. "We sound like first years."

"You made more sense then."

Harry winced. "Draco…"

The blond crawled up onto the bed and pushed Harry back. He stayed on his haunches in front of the startled boy. "What. Is. Going. Through. Your. Head?"

Harry looked down at the covers. "I…saw something," he began.

"Saw what?"

"You." The green eyes were darker when they met Draco's gaze. The blond didn't like the new shadows. "You were nailed to a _post_, Draco. You were bloody, beaten and dead. And it was a vision of the future. How can I want that to happen? Because it will if you stay near me." He closed his eyes and rubbed at his head. "It will all happen. Every last bit of it." The words came out muffled and watery.

Draco let out a long breath and crawled to the boy's side. He pulled Harry close and tucked the dark head under his chin. "It won't happen, Harry. It won't."

"But you heard Pythia."

"I heard that you can see things that _might_ happen." He shifted them so that Harry's elbow wasn't digging into his side. "We need to find her, Harry. She can tell us what the meaning of it is."

"But they were real, like the things I saw in Voldemort's mind."

"Those were memories, Harry. Remember? You told me about them."

The boy huffed out a long breath. "It scares me," he said.

Draco kept his mouth shut and held Harry closer. _It scares me too_, he thought and closed his eyes. _I will never leave you_, he wrapped his anger tight around the promise and sent it out into the Dark. _Please, don't let me ever leave him_.

**qpqpqpqp**

Auror Rayne was at his desk with a stack of papers sitting in front of him. He was supposed to be filling out the forms – in triplicate – for all of the 'offenses' he had incurred while talking to Harry. He pushed the stack away with a grimace. _The whole lot of it is ridiculous._

Dan was sitting across from him, going through his smaller pile of papers. The look of concentration was marred by the tip of his tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth. Rayne rolled his eyes and looked away.

There was a stir at the entrance of their office. He recognized the beaky nose, the lank hair and purposeful stride. Severus Snape had entered the building.

The Potions Master found their area and headed for it. Rayne got to his feet, rapping once on the desk to get his partner's attention. Dan looked up with a scowl that got deeper when he saw who was approaching.

"Mr. Snape," Dan began.

"It is Professor Snape, thank you, Auror Gest." The midnight eyes swept over the man and dismissed him. Then he turned to Rayne. "I would like to request a meeting with you. Right now."

Rayne blinked and looked at his fuming partner. "Well, I'm not sure it would be allowed."

"Oh, it is."

"Pardon me?"

"Your superiors will find it extremely beneficial to allow you this new project."

"What new project?"

Snape's smile was sharp as a razor. "That is what I would like to discuss with you now, Auror Rayne."

**qpqpqpqp**

Sirius stood on the veranda and stared out over the grounds of his family's estate. The day was overcast, cold and miserable for late August. He had his hands buried in the pits of his arms, keeping them from the chill.

Remus sat on one of the wooden lounge chairs behind him. The werewolf let his hands dangle between his legs and watched the steady stream of ants that marched their way across the wooden boards.

"We've got to find him."

Remus looked up at the other man. "How, Sirius? You heard the Headmaster. Harry's in a safe place."

"This is a safe place. This is the place he was supposed to be safe at. I don't care what the Headmaster says. Harry belongs here."

Remus took in a deep breath and let it out. "Well, let's think about it. He could be at the school."

"Too many people coming in and out. And I didn't smell him there."

"St. Mungo's?"

The animagus shook his head.

"Well…" Remus frowned down at his hands. "The Malfoy estate."

Sirius turned to look at him. "You think they let him go there? Why?"

"Well, he is rather attached to Draco."

"But it's the _Malfoy_ estate, Remus."

"And this is the Black estate."

"But…" Sirius flapped his arms at his sides. "That place is evil!"

"So was this place. You think they'd let anything happen to Harry while he was there?"

"But you remember those couches! They bite!"

"And?"

"They're evil!"

"So is the nursery on the third floor."

"It's not evil. Just…odd."

"No, Padfoot. That place is evil."

The animagus frowned at him. "You would be okay with having Harry at the Malfoy's and not here?"

"I want Harry with us, as he should have been." Remus slapped his hands on his knees and stood. "But what I want doesn't matter. It's what Harry wants that's important."

"What Harry wants?" The dark eyes were shadowed by furrowed brows. "Harry wants to come home. Here. Where his family is. That's what he wants." Sirius nodded and turned back to the countryside. "We'll just have to go and get him."

"Go and get him?" Remus laughed. "You make it sound like the Malfoy's will just hand him over to us."

"Of course they will."

"Draco, Sirius. I don't think the boy will want to let go of Harry."

"And that's another thing. Harry's not some possession. He's a person. Draco shouldn't be so possessive of him."

"They're very close, Sirius. I think the possessiveness goes both ways."

"Still," there was a stubborn set to the animagus' jaw. "Harry belongs here. And he's coming home. One way or the other."

Remus sighed, but stayed silent. He followed the other man's gaze. The western horizon was cut short by a thick forest of trees; it was a new muggle park he'd read. There was a lake and other supposedly natural wonders lurking within. And beyond that lay the Malfoy Manor, surrounded by all of its protections, wards and Merlin knew what else.

Remus kept his sigh quiet. It was going to be a long day, he just knew it.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Harry?"

The dark haired boy turned at the sound. He saw Draco standing in the doorway, his head tilted to one side.

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

Harry looked down at the mess around him. "I'm learning out to walk," he said.

Draco entered the room and approached the other boy. "I don't understand."

Harry let out a long breath. After Draco had left to get cleaned up and have the house elves bring food, he had done some thinking. He needed Pythia. He needed to know if what he had seen was real, or if they were things that would not come. So while the blond was out, he had decided to find the Path that would bring him to her.

Draco crouched at the edge of the circle. "What did you use?"

"Chalk."

The circle around Harry was small, inscribed on the wood floor. He had been trying to remember the symbols they had used at school for protection, but had drawn a blank.

"May I join you?"

Harry looked up at the formal tone. He met the gray gaze and nodded. He reached over and rubbed out a spot in the circle. Draco stepped in. He filled the space and pressed a finger to it. Power flared through the circle, creating a small breeze that stirred their hair.

Draco frowned down at him. "We should leave a note. For Father and Severus."

"I already did."

"Did you include the fact that I would be going with you?"

"Yes." Harry shuffled to the east edge of the circle. "Do you remember how we did this? I can't remember the symbols."

"Here," the blond took the chalk from him and leaned over. It was a small circle, pressing them close together. Harry felt his face grow hot and he hoped the blond had not noticed.

Draco put the chalk to the edge of the circle. The line flared, green and silver, then the world around them disappeared.

"What'd you do?"

"Nothing!"

Draco's free hand was clamped around Harry's waist. They had the floor beneath them, and that was all. Harry covered his eyes with his hands. It was too much like the Abyss he had seen in his dreams.

"What's wrong?"

"It's happening again."

"What?"

The floor disappeared from beneath them. Only Draco's hold on the other boy kept them together.

They landed on a path of silver sand. It was still pitch black around them. It was the same Darkness that Harry had seen in his wanderings through the Otherworld. But this time it did not seem hostile. Merely curious.

"Where are we?"

Harry stood with the blond's help. "I think we're close."

"How do you know?"

"The Path." He was barefoot, like in his dream. He swallowed hard against the rush of fear that swept over him. Draco's presence at his side helped to push the feeling back.

"But Harry, we're in the middle of…Merlin!"

He looked over the blond's shoulder to see what had startled him. The entrance to a cave had appeared out of the Dark. The Path led up to it and disappeared inside.

"I guess that's where we're meant to go." Harry started forward.

"Wait." Draco kept a hold of his arm. "What if it's a trap?"

"If it is, then we'll be fine."

"How can you know that?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know how, but I do. We won't die here, nor will we get hurt. But we have to go."

"Why?"

"Because the Dark is waking."

How he knew these things was something Harry was trying very hard not to think about. But everything that had come out of his mouth he knew to be true. The knowledge had simply appeared in his head. He shivered and reached out to grab the blond's hand.

"Please, Draco." He looked up into gray eyes. "Just come along. We'll be fine."

The other boy frowned, studying his face. "Your eyes are normal again," he said.

"What?"

"Before, in the room. They were filled with lights and shadows." A long-fingered hand reached up and touched his cheek. "Now they're back to normal."

Harry fought the urge to look away. "Maybe it's because we're here." He pulled at the hand in his grasp. "Come on. We're making her wait."

Draco frowned, but nodded. He turned his hand in Harry's grip until he could lace their fingers together. "You and me," he said. "We'll do this together. Promise me."

"I promise."

They turned and faced the entrance to the cave. No light pierced the outcropping. It was a veil of black that hung before them and showed no reflection. Together they stepped through.

End Chapter Seven

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews!


	8. Chapter 8: A Test of Faith

Chapter Eight: A Test of Faith

The cave was lit by two roaring fires. The light from them flickered over walls that were painted with soot and ash. Harry had a tight grip on Draco's hand, even as his palms began to sweat. They faced an empty chair made of white stone. Smoke rose up from underneath it, curling around the mammoth seat, then disappearing into the darkness overhead.

"Where is she?" Draco took a step forward. Harry held back.

"Right here." The voice came from behind them. They both spun, Harry losing his grip on Draco's hand. Pythia had her arms crossed over her chest and a small smile on her lips.

"Where's the door?" Harry frowned.

She looked over her shoulder and shrugged. "It comes and goes as it pleases."

"So we're stuck here?"

"That depends on your view of things." Her eyes glittered in the light from the fires.

"I found my way," Harry said, stepping forward.

"So you did."

"I had a dream."

"The first of many."

"I didn't like it."

"You won't like most of them, I'm afraid."

Harry swallowed and pushed forward. "Is there any way I can change the future?"

Pythia's expression went soft. "Come this way, boys," she turned and made her way to one of the large roaring fires.

"But…" Draco caught Harry's arm. "How do we get home?"

"You will learn in time." Pythia answered over her shoulder.

"You mean we're stuck here?" The indignation in the blond's voice made her smile.

"No, child. Time does not move here, as it does in the world which you live."

"So we're here until you say we can leave?"

Pythia smiled and sank down onto a padded chair near the hearth. "Of course not. That is no way to learn."

"Then what?"

She lifted a pot from the hearth using a pair of long tongs. The tea was fragrant as she poured it into three wooden cups. "You will stay until you learn the lesson I have put before you each time you come and visit me."

"And what if we never learn?"

Her eyes reflected the firelight. "Oh, you will."

Draco swallowed and shut his mouth.

**qpqpqpqp**

On a road, on an isle long famed for its esoteric happenings, a body was putting itself back together.

The shattered pieces of the auto littered the road. The smell of burning petrol and oil wafted through the air. Dawn was coming, lighting the eastern edge of the horizon with a blue that could trick the eyes into thinking it was black.

A forearm connected with the elbow. The joint forced itself back into place. The long dead tendons, leathery from centuries of disuse, threaded themselves back together. Blood from the dead man in the front seat of the tangled mess of metal and plastic soaked into the dry skin. Veins ran red with blood for the first time in centuries.

Struggling to his feet, the priest blinked moisture into his eyes. Knowledge from the blood tingled through his brain. The world reshaped itself by bits and pieces. The road he was on was not a Path, but a byway to a small town of little more than a hundred people. There were children there, yes. Families, parents, aunts and uncles. Plenty for a sacrifice that would please his Lord, however small it may be.

Turning to the west, the priest shrugged off the last of his moldering clothes. Naked, an hour to dawn, he stood in the depth of night and raised his arms to the sky. The call of his God was still weak, still to the east, but he could not follow it. The town to the south swallowed his attention. He opened his eyes, sighted down the deserted road, and began to walk.

**qpqpqpqp**

Neville woke from a nightmare, panting for breath. The ground around him had been soaked in blood. Blaise's body had been torn to pieces in front of him. He rolled to the edge of the bed, grasping the mattress with both hands.

The summer night was warm. He'd left the window open in hopes to get a breath of cooler air in his room. Shrugging off the covers, he headed for the stirring curtains.

The lights from the muggle town made a hazy glow in the distance. Pollution was kept away from their lands by a spell of his grandmother's own making, but Neville could still sometimes see it, the yellow brown cloud that hung over the sprawling metropolis, like a giant insect, feeding off a pond, turning it brown.

The thought made him shiver. He twitched the light fabric aside. The air was cooler, and he could see the eastern sky starting to brighten, but the sense of despair from his nightmare hung over him, even as the stars faded and the birds began to chirp.

"Harry," he murmured, resting his head against the glass. "Where are you?" He had sent many letters, but had received none in return. He was half-tempted to ask his grandmother to take him to Surrey, just to see if he could find the other boy himself.

"Neville?"

As if his thoughts had summoned her, his Gran stood in the doorway to his room.

"Yes?" He turned, arms still wrapped around his middle.

"What's wrong? I heard you moving around."

"Nothing," he ran a hand across his forehead. "Just a nightmare."

In the dim light of the room, he saw her expression shift. She stepped to the old rocking chair and sat, her heavy knitted shawl enveloping her shoulders. "About what happened at school?"

He sat on the edge of the bed. "Yes," he admitted. He felt silly and uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was for his extended family to think him a coward for being afraid of some dreams. He had enough problems with them as it was.

His Gran looked down at her thin hands. "Your father used to have nightmares about work," she began. "Before he married your mother. The first war…" Her eyes met Neville's. "The first war haunted many people, who cared to remember it. The second, I fear, will be as remembered as well as the first. And I'm not so sure it should be forgotten. Your father, before…before what happened, told me that he wanted you raised to know truth from falsehood." She shook her head. "But I think I did you a disservice, young man, by trying to make you strong instead."

Neville swallowed hard, his heart beating fast in his throat. They had never talked about Before, as his other family members liked to call it. The time Before he showed his magic. The time when they had all though he was a squib, a useless, weak remainder of the proud heritage his father had left behind.

"It wasn't so bad," Neville offered after a long stretch of silence.

The bark of laughter Gran let out was brittle and held no humor. "You silly boy," she stopped and sighed again. "I am proud of you," she said, catching his eye. "Be you in Gryffindor or Slytherin, I am proud of you. And that Blaise boy." Her nose wrinkled. "A pureblood, to say the least, but a decent one. That new House of yours was the one to give you confidence, when it should have been your family's job. But however it came, you're a good boy. A fine young man." She drew in a sharp breath. "Nightmares, Neville, are good for the soul. It lets out the horror and anger before it can bottle up in the mind and shatter the good in your heart. Never be afraid to talk about them, or be afraid to go to someone when they wake you up at night."

Neville had to blink several times before he could speak. "Thank you, Gran."

She waved it off. "Come on, then. I don't think either of us is getting back to bed. I'll make us a hot cup of tea and start on breakfast. I'm sure you have plants that need watering."

"Yes ma'am."

"Good, good." She rose and began to leave the room. At the door, she stopped and turned. "I do mean it, Neville. I may not be the most demonstrative witch in the world, but we are proud of you. We love you. And come Hell, high water or muggles themselves, the family will be behind you."

She was gone before he could find his voice to respond.

**qpqpqpqp**

Ginny sat in the window seat, staring out at the morning light.

Her dreams had been dark, but she could not remember what they had been about when she had woken. A tremor of uneasiness had settled into her bones. She'd been at the window for some time, trying to dispel the feeling.

"Ginny?" Bill had one hand on the door handle, the other pressed against the wood.

"Bill?" She turned in her seat.

"You didn't answer when I knocked."

"I was thinking." She shrugged and turned back to the foggy glass.

He entered the room, but left the door open behind him. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know."

"What's wrong?"

She rubbed at her forehead. "I'm just worried, I guess."

"About Harry."

"Who isn't?"

"He'll be fine, Gin. You'll see."

"Sirius…Dad. He's Dad." She took a deep breath. "He's so worried about Harry. So focused. It's almost scary."

"He's just worried too, Gin."

"I know." She chewed on her lower lip as he approached. She looked up at him through her lashes. "Is it bad to feel a bit jealous?"

"Jealous?" He sat next to her, pulling his feet up onto the thin padding, mirroring her pose.

"I…" Her face colored. "It's stupid. Never mind."

"Tell me."

"No, really. It's fine."

"Gin."

"What?"

"Tell me. It's not stupid."

"I…I was getting used to being the one Dad was worried about. The one he was so glad, so happy to be around. Horrid, isn't it? I'm so selfish. I wanted him all to myself, with Harry away with those muggles. It's awful." To her shame, she felt tears gather and slip down her cheeks.

"Oh Gin…" Bill began.

"Ginny." The voice of their new father startled them both. She dashed at her face, trying to hide her tears.

Sirius' hair was rumpled from sleep. He came up next to her, scooped her up and sat her in his lap, taking her place on the bench. "You're not selfish at all, my girl. Not at all. You went through an awful time. It's all right. Everything will be all right."

"No, it won't. I've been dragging your attention away from Harry and, and, and…" She had to gulp for breath.

"Shh," he tucked her head under his chin. "Stop that. None of this is your fault. None of it. Don't you dare blame yourself for things you had no control over. You either, Bill," he added with a sharp look. "We'll get Harry back soon. Then we'll all be a family together. You'll see."

"Do you think he'll hate me?"

"Harry?" Sirius pulled back to look into her face. "Why ever would he hate you, Gin?"

"Because I was here first," her whisper carried no further than the two men.

"Never, Gin. Never. Harry's not like that." Sirius hugged her tight. "Harry is good, forgiving, kind, brave and all the things his father and mother were best at. He is a gentle soul, a brilliant boy. He'll be so happy to be home. So happy to see all of us, you'll see."

"You think so?"

"I know so." Bill smiled at the picture the two made, curled up in the half-light of the morning.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Bloody, blasted, blazing ball of shite!"

"Nice alliteration, Harry."

"Shut up Draco!"

"This isn't my fault."

"Of course it isn't! That's the bloody point!"

"Getting angry won't help."

"Piss off!"

Draco folded his arms over his chest. "Potter, if I can keep my temper under these circumstances, then I assure you, so can you."

"Go to bloody hell!"

"You think hell is bloody?"

The non sequitur made the smaller boy pause. "Well, it would be, don't you think? All that punishment that's supposed to take place? Would make sense."

They were trapped in two oubliettes, mere feet from each other, but with an abyss between. The echoing dark around them muted their voices.

"I suppose," the blond acknowledged. "But that's neither here nor there."

"We're neither here nor there."

"That's true too."

They stared at each other. "So, Draco. How do you propose to get us out of here?" Harry sat down in the small area of rock that was allowed to them. He was tired. Dirty. And more than a little hungry.

"Well," the blond stepped close to the edge and kneeled down. "I don't suppose we could shout for Pythia, do you think?"

"She said we're on our own for this one."

They had lost track of the time they had been in the cave. The first set of lessons had been easy – too easy. Pythia's eyes had narrowed as they passed each of the tests, a strange glitter growing each time they conquered the obstacles she placed before them.

The lessons had encompassed a number of things they had learned while trying to wake the Old Gods. Meditation, the clearing of the mind, the ability to concentrate under extreme confusion. But the newest test their teacher had proposed them had them trapped in an oubliette within a minute of their journey, with stern instructions to figure it out themselves.

Harry propped an elbow on his knee. "Well, let's think. Pythia said this was a test of…" He frowned. "What did she say again?"

"Faith." Draco was kneeling on one knee, peering over the edge.

"She said faith?"

"Yes."

"That's odd. How is this a test of faith?"

Draco looked up. His hair had fallen over his eyes, striping his face with pale strands. "Faith in our abilities?" He offered.

"No…I don't think that's it." Harry chewed on his lower lip and ran a hand over his eyes. "I'm tired."

"So am I."

"Pythia said we'd be able to go home after learning each lesson. This is the fourth!"

"Sounding a tad Gryffindor there, Potter."

"Oh stuff it, Malfoy."

A rusty chuckle came from the blond. "I think someone needs some sleep."

Harry snorted. "I think we both need some sleep. Right after I eat a horse."

Draco's nose wrinkled. "Horse meat is disgusting."

"You've actually had it?"

"Of course. It was a delicacy at some party we went to. Absolutely nasty."

"It was a figure of speech, what I said."

"Odd figure."

"Muggle, I think."

"Well, there you go."

Harry waved off the blond. "So. A test of faith." He leaned forward. They were a few feet apart. But there was no way either oubliette could accommodate two people. He frowned and looked up.

"Where's the light coming from?"

"What?"

"The light, Draco. We can see each other, but nothing else. Where's it coming from?"

The blond stood and drew his wand. "_Lumnos_!" The spell lit the tip of his wand, but the glow around him did not get brighter. Neither did the dark around them become illuminated.

"Well, shite."

Draco shook his wand. "_Lumnos_ you blasted thing!" The tip grew brighter, but nothing else happened.

"Don't set it on fire."

"I'm not that bloody stupid."

"Now who's cranky?"

"Shut up, Potter."

"You shut up."

"No, you shut up!"

Harry began to laugh, though the irritated expression stayed on Draco's face. "We really do sound like first years again."

The anger cracked and flowed away. The line of the blond's shoulders drooped. "Let's just figure this out so we can go home."

"I agree."

They each began to examine their spaces. Harry felt a creeping fear, every time he got close to the edge. The nearer he came, the worse the shakes were. It gave him a thought.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Do you get a…strange feeling when you're close to the edge?"

Draco frowned. "Yes. Dread."

Harry moved toward the deep dark. The feeling spread through his chest like cold fingers exploring his heart. It made him shiver. But the growing need to be at the blond's side was breaking down the fear the abyss projected. "I have an idea, but you won't like it." He stood.

"Harry, what are you – don't!" The blond lunged for him.

Harry's toes were at the edge of the oubliette. The abyss yawned before him, the deep dark swallowing every shred of light. He lifted one foot. He brought it forward. He stepped down.

There was a flash of light, even as Draco's shout rang through the cavern. They were back in front of the white chair. Pythia sat before them, her smile small.

"He could have died!" Draco turned on her.

"Mind your manners." The sharp, male voice startled them both. They turned to see a man in front of the flames. He was swarthy, with curly dark hair and brown eyes.

"Who in the name of Merlin are you?"

"Merlin?" He canted a look at Pythia. "They are odd."

"Boys," she said, gaining their attention. "This is Homer."

Harry goggled. "The Homer?"

"Who?"

Draco frowned. "Who, Harry?"

"The man who wrote the Odyssey!"

Pythia's nose wrinkled. "You mean that drivel is still around?"

Harry stared between them. "Of course it is. My cousin had to read it. Made me do his book report on it."

"Muggles," Draco's disgusted snort was soft.

"No, boys," Pythia's voice was full of laughter. "This Homer is not your…other Homer. He's my Homer." She smiled at the man. He rolled his eyes and returned to the pot that was boiling over the fire. "He is as Draco is to you, Harry. My pillar, my strength, my guide when all else fails me."

Harry frowned. "I don't understand."

She leaned forward, clasping her hands together. "The last test was a test of faith. You are tired. You are hungry. You both were angry and snappish. Yet, what did you feel, Harry?"

"That…" He thought about it. "That I had to get to Draco. Even though there was no way the oubliette could hold us both."

"And when you faced the feeling the abyss projected?"

"I…I didn't care." He blinked. "It's just the abyss. I've seen it before. I've walked over it before. And I knew if I was about to fall, Draco would catch me and keep me safe."

She nodded and leaned back. "There you go. A test of faith. You've stared into the abyss and neither of you flinched." She flicked her hand to something behind them. "It's time for you both to go."

"Is that all?" Harry stared at her.

"Don't argue, Harry! Let's go!" Draco grabbed his arm.

"It is all for now, boys." She rose and herded them towards the door. She stopped them before they could leave with a hand on each of their shoulders. "There will be more lessons, but this, this was the one you needed first. A test of faith. Faith in yourselves. Faith in each other. The abyss can be a terrifying place, but it is not terrifying in and of itself. It is what it contains that we must be wary of."

Draco drew Harry towards the door. "So what now?" He asked.

"You practice, of course." She reached out and touched Harry's face with her cold fingertips. "To learn to walk the paths of sight, Harry, you must first get to know them."

"You mean go into the Otherworld, voluntarily?"

"Yes."

"They won't like it."

"Who?"

"Draco's father. Professor Snape. Healer Fabing. Hell, anyone. Sirius will throw a fit if I do it when I go to his house."

"And how, pray tell young Seer, will they stop you?" She smiled at him.

Harry blinked. "But they'll get mad!"

She sighed and let it go with a shrug. "You will not learn if you do not practice." She turned away, saying the last over her shoulder and the world around them began to fade. "And I will not have you back if you do not practice. The path you took here this time will be closed. You must find another way to my realm, and to do that, you must know the Paths you wish to walk."

"But what if we get lost?" Harry tried to go back to the cave.

Her smile was a flash of cream and pearl. "It's a test of faith, Harry. You've passed it once, now pass it again." Then she and the cave were gone. The world around them shuddered, blinked and came into focus.

They stood in Harry's room at the Manor, in a chalk circle. The sky outside was just starting to turn with the shades of dawn. Draco had an arm around his middle, holding tight.

Harry turned in his grasp. "How the bloody hell are we supposed to practice if no one will let us out of their sight?"

Draco shrugged, but the sly smile had started his eyes twinkling. "We're Slytherins, Harry. Remember?" He leaned forward so his mouth was close to Harry's ear. "We have more than faith on our side. We have cunning. We have plans. But most of all," he drew the smaller boy close. "We have my brilliant mind to solve the problem."

Harry's laughter rang through the room.

**End Chapter Eight**


	9. Chapter 9: To Smell Death

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from these books. I don't make any money from this. Please don't sue me. It's all going to taxes, anyhow.

Chapter Nine: To Smell Death 

The Morrigan drifted over the great Dark, winging her way through the ether. The Dark was quiet since the wizard named Voldemort had died. The very stillness made her skin crawl and her pulse race. There was something wrong. Something she should have seen. Something she should have been looking for, but she could not remember what.

She had lost the smell, almost as she had got it. It had been in her Dream Child's room, a faint scent that teased the nose, tickled the hairs of memory, then vanished. She knew she should know it. She knew it was something that would make her rage and her mind draw black with chaos. But she could not name it. Could not place it. And it drove her mad.

Out over the dark, she cast her nets of scent. There was nothing. Not even the stench of rotting meat from dying creatures that fought out their small lives in the wild Dark. Nothing. It was as if something had scared the creatures into hiding, had driven them from the Wild Magic which sustained them, to tamer places where they would become little more than nightmares in the dreams of children all around the world.

But she knew the scent was there. It had burned the back of her throat with rage. It seared its brief presence into her mind and memory. She would find it. She would drag it from the rocks it hid under. She would conquer it, destroy it, and laugh in the wind when it was little more than dust.

But she had to find the trail first. So she searched through the Dark, flying, flying until her bones ached and her head rang with one single thought.

_I will find you. I will find you. I will find you_.

**qpqpqpqp**

The town was quiet. Tranquil in the hour before dawn, the sleepy streets were devoid of autos. The priest walked down the lane, past the dark windows and the slumbering people. There were no wards to bar him from their homes. No amulets of protection to keep him from their doors.

He smiled and stopped, turning to the first house he came upon. It was time to begin.

**qpqpqpqp**

The surge of Dark magic tipped the alarms in the Auror's office. Scrimgeour, having come in early to prepare his notes for his future replacement, was the first to hear them.

The flurry of owls sent from the Auror's office Owlry spooked the roosting pigeons from their nests under the eaves of the Ministry building. As he waited, Scrimgeour readied his kit, his nerve and his wits.

_Death Eaters_, he was willing to bet. _It has to be_. They had not caught all of Voldemort's followers in the aftermath of the battle at Hogwarts. There were a sufficient number of them loose to cause him all sorts of problems. It was one of the reasons he had decided to run for Minister. _We can't let them go loose, or turn a blind eye to the evils which still haunt our world_, it was a good line. He'd have to write it down. He had speeches coming up. The vote was still months away, but he needed all the help he could get.

But when the Auror teams arrived in the sleepy hamlet in Ireland, they found no Dark Mark painted across the sky. They found no masks, no inscribed diatribes about the Dark Lord waiting to rise again. They found no bodies of witches or wizards at all.

The new batch of trainees all lost what little food they'd had in their stomach. Scrimgeour was almost tempted to join them. The small square in front of the town church was soaked in blood. His boots squelched with the sound of intestines and…other bits of the human body as he walked over the once green grass.

There was an Unspeakable standing in front of what could only be described as an altar. The man was plain; brown hair, brown eyes, the type of person one's eyes could move over and never notice, never be able to pick out of a crowd. The Unspeakables had always given him a shiver of fear.

"What did this?" He knew his voice was gruff. But the morning light was rising fast, and the scene looked worse in the pastel light of dawn than it did in the shadow of night.

"I don't know." Rufus didn't know the Unspeakable's name. He would never know it. It was how they operated, how they moved through the wizarding world with the rest of the populace nary the wiser.

"Wizards? Death Eaters? What?"

The man shook his head. "Magic, of that I'm certain, was used." He reached out and touched the blood slick stone that had once been a memorial to the dead from one of the Muggle world wars. "But the type eludes me. No wands were used. No Dark Marks. But the people lined up and brought their children to slaughter, one by one." He pointed to the grass. Rufus followed the line to the beaten circle around the altar. "The children died first. Then the parents."

"Who could have done this?"

The man's shoulders moved. "Someone with the knowledge of old magic. Someone with the need to perform blood magic."

"An old god?"

"No. A mortal of some sort put this together."

"How do you know?"

The Unspeakable gave him a narrow look and a wry twist of the lips as an answer.

"Right," Rufus said. He cleared his throat. "Do you have any suspects?"

"Oh, many."

"Who?"

The man turned to him. "Who, Auror Scrimgeour, do you know of, has had multiple contacts with the old gods and lived to tell about it?"

Rufus stared at the man. "The rumors about Slytherin House…"

The man nodded. "It is a possibility."

"But they're children!"

"Whose parents have worshipped the old gods for centuries."

"They wouldn't do this! They fought for Hogwarts."

"Perhaps." The man's tone was flat. "But we cannot rule them out as suspects. They have the knowledge. They have the means."

"But you said no wands were used!"

"And how many of the old families have talents that can be utilized without the use of wands? The Potter family, for example," the man's eyes gleamed. "They have only one recorded family trait. Quite odd for such a long line of wizardry."

"You think," Rufus had to consciously lower his voice. "The boy can barely walk! We all saw him at the battle for Hogwarts. He would never be able to do something like this."

"Perhaps." The Unspeakable shook his head. Too late, Rufus realized how many ears had been listening in to their conversation. "I must make my report."

"You can't pin this on the Slytherins alone."

The narrow look was back. "Then who else, Auror Scrimgeour, would you like to offer as suspects?"

"The rogue Death Eaters, of course!"

A thin eyebrow arched. "Interesting suggestion. Do you believe there are still more out there?"

"Yes."

"And how do you know?"

"The raids! There have been several families that have gone missing…"

"Families that were Dark before they changed sides."

"Well, yes."

"Did it ever occur to you that they have switched sides yet again?"

Rufus could only shake his head. "You're determined this is some plot from the Slytherin House."

"It is a possibility."

"I want all possibilities in your report."

"And how," the smile was smug, "do you suppose you're going to make sure they're there?"

Rufus' right hand tightened into a fist. The Unspeakable's smug look grew. The man had the nerve to wink at Rufus before he Disapparited. The head of the Auror division was left sputtering at an altar full of the hearts of children and the eyes of their parents.

It was a long time before any of them went home that day.

**qpqpqpqp**

From the panic that had swallowed the Auror office, a small owl took flight from an open window. The room where it had been launched from was unused, except to store old desks and other furniture the office no longer needed.

The owl headed straight for the Wizard Daily press office. It did not come back.

**qpqpqpqp**

Hermione had her school books pooled around her. The morning was near over. Her mother would be calling for her to eat lunch soon. The sounds of their muggle home were as familiar to her as her heartbeat, and as strange, sometimes, as the surface of the moon.

The phone would ring. Hermione could almost forget, when she was at Hogwarts, that such things as phones even existed. Then an auto would drive by the house. Children she had gone to primary school with would flood past the house with their bikes, calling over their shoulder about the newest movie they had seen. Sometimes it seemed like Greek, that calling of the short hand language of teenagers enjoying life as they would, in the muggle world, with muggle concerns that had little impact on the rest of Hermione's magic-filled life.

She had a book open in her lap, but her attention was on the pretty sunlight filtering in through the window. She wanted…she didn't know what she wanted. The world outside seemed like a dream. No one knew, looking at her, that she had been in a battle not a month or so past. No one in the neighborhood cared that she seemed more withdrawn, quieter, and less apt to laugh and talk to the people passing by on the sidewalk.

It was frustrating, in some ways, to see the world carry on as if nothing had happened. _Nothing did happen, for them_, she amended to herself. _To them, magic isn't real. Isn't useful. Isn't anything but a fairytale. A myth. A…a dream._

She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath through her nose. The changes happening in the wizarding world were not solely contained therein. The Gods had been spotted in the muggle world, though the news reports laughed them off as neo-pagan groups pulling a large prank. Hermione had watched the reports, read the papers and tried finding out all the information she could from every resource. None of the muggle press believed the Gods had returned. Sometimes she wasn't so sure either.

The Battle of Hogwarts seemed to be fading in her mind. The rush of blood, her help with Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary…all of it seemed to be fading until it was like some bad dream she had had while asleep. Her parents had done their best to get her to forget as well. Their whirlwind trip to America had kept Hermione occupied for a while, but it was when they had gotten home that the nightmares had started.

She had been able to keep the dreams a secret for now. She knew it was little more than a matter of time until someone found out. In her dreams, she saw Harry die again and again. But instead of being horrified, her dream-self was happy, vindicated, proud, even. It was when she woke that she felt sick, knowing that Harry wasn't the root of their problems. That he had never been their problem. And she was sick to think that she had once thought that she could pin everything on his shoulders, and to hope for his quick death, which would mean the end to all their concerns.

"Hermione! Lunch is ready!"

She started at the sound of her mother's voice. The book fell from her lap, face down on the rug-covered floor. She let it lay where it fell, too tired and too fogged with thought to pick it up.

Down the stairs she went, and through the narrow door that fed into the sunny kitchen. "There you are," her mother beamed a smile at her. Saturday lunch was always something Hermione and her mother had shared, ever since she was little. "I've fixed omelets. Hungry?"

Hermione nodded and took a seat at the table. "It'll be just another minute. I didn't think I'd get you with the first call. You've some mail, dear."

Hermione smiled at her mother's back and pulled the stack of mail to setting. Letters from her Housemates she put aside. Letters from the Weasley's…George, she noted…she was tempted to throw right out. But the Daily Prophet, the Wizard Daily and a handful of other publications were stacked four deep at the bottom of the pile. The three-inch headline on the nearest Wizard Daily caught her eye.

There was a crash in the kitchen. Mrs. Granger jumped and spun around, spatula in hand. "Hermione?" But the kitchen was empty, save for the rumpled papers littering the table. She bent down and scanned the headlines. The spatula hit the floor with a plastic twang.

"Hermione? Hermione come back here this instant! Hermione!"

But there was no answer.

**qpqpqpqp**

Sasha tossed down the paper, almost taking the lighted candelabra in the center of the table with it.

"Calm now, dear." Her cousin's wavering voice said from the head of the table. "Nasty bit of news, it is. You should see the other papers."

"They're full of lies," she spat.

"Do you suppose?"

"I would think. They all say Potter's the reason this is happening." She snorted. "It's a bunch of shite."

"Young ladies do not use such language."

"Young ladies haven't had a life I've led either."

Her cousin steeped his fingers in front of his face, leaning his elbows on the dark mahogany wood. "That is true. Perhaps we should do something to correct that."

She gave him a withering look. "I will be seventeen in a few months. It is long past the time I would gain anything from a 'proper' upbringing."

"Perhaps." His eyes glittered. "But then again, a proper upbringing would have had you ignoring that Gryffindor boy and not encouraging him."

The cup of tea, which had been on its way to her mouth, fell from nerveless fingers. "Damn!" She snatched up her napkin and patted down the soaked fabric of her jumper. She blinked, her hand going still on the mess. "What did you just say?"

Herbert leaned back, a bubbly smile overtaking his face. "Come now. I'm an old man, but I'm not dotty. That young man who drew you off while we were at Diagon Alley. Only a Gryffindor would be foolish enough to do something like that in broad daylight. I should know."

"I…I…" She blinked several times. "You _knew_?"

"Of course."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Of course not."

"Why not!"

"Well, you seemed like you were having such fun."

Her mouth opened and closed a number of times. "I don't understand."

His smile dimmed by inches. "I know. I'm sorry."

"What?" She was confused even more.

"Sasha, what do you want?" He leaned forward in his seat, resting his hands on the table.

"I…what do you mean? What do I want?"

"Yes. What do you want?"

"I want the last five minutes back and a cup of tea and a dry jumper!"

He rolled his eyes, flicked his wand and summoned a house elf. "There. Now I can't get you back the time without signing many forms in triplicate. Now stop stalling."

"But I don't understand."

"With life, Sasha." He kept his gaze on her, even as the house elves bustled around the table, clearing the dishes.

"What I want to do with my life?"

"Yes."

"Well I…well, I…" She looked away. "I don't know," she admitted.

"Do you wish to go into a profession?"

"I don't know."

"A sport?"

"No." That was accompanied by a wrinkle of her nose.

"Then what?"

"I want…" She stared off into the distance. "I want to learn. To know things." She shrugged. "Mother and Father…" She faltered and forged on. "Mother and Father assumed I would marry right out of Hogwarts. I'm pureblood. I have a long lineage. I'm the last of my line," the words fell in whispers. She cleared her throat and sat straight in her chair. "I guess I could do that, since that was what they wanted." But her face was beginning to burn with color. She hadn't thought of her parents in weeks. She knew what their response to Seamus would have been. She dropped her gaze to the table and tried not to fidget.

"Sasha, please look at me."

She flicked a glance to him, and then away.

"Sasha."

With a huff of a sigh, she raised her eyes. She felt like flinching inside. But the look he was giving her was calm, even and…amused. She felt her insides bristle instead.

"Sasha, do you _want_ to get married right out of school."

She opened her mouth to answer, but found her mind blank.

"Be truthful now."

"…No. I don't."

"Then what do you want to do?"

"Learn!"

"Learn what?"

"Anything!" She frowned. "Everything. I want to go to muggle places. I want to read muggle books. I don't care if they're not what pureblood girls are supposed to do. I just…" She shrugged. "There's more to the world that magic. But I don't want to give it up. I love magic. I love being able to do magic. I don't want to be exiled." She hugged her arms close to her body.

He nodded and leaned back once more in his seat. "Our family, Sasha, is an intellectual one. As I'm sure you know."

She nodded.

"We have been lore keepers, record keepers, writers and chroniclers for generation upon generation. But that, I think, is not what you wish for your future."

She shook her head, unable to speak.

He pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing as he looked her over. "If I told you, that by some chance, Oxford had a branch of learning that incorporated both muggle and wizard knowledge, would you be interested?"

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and staring. "There's such a thing?"

"Well, it has to be funded, you know, and no muggle enterprise would do such a thing."

"I don't understand."

His smile crinkled the skin around his eyes. "For a century, since the first great war on the continent, a group of families have come together to put forth their brightest and best for a path of learning. A path to where both magical and muggle folk can live in harmony. Together. In peace."

"But…" Sasha could only stare. "That'll get you thrown in Azkaban by the Minister! It's against all the laws we have!"

"Yes, it is."

"It's scandalous! We risk discovery by even promoting it!"

"Yes."

"When can I start?"

"After you take your NEWTs."

"That long?"

"Well…"

"Well what?"

"There are some owl courses you might be able to take."

Her eyes gleamed. She leaned forward. "Do tell," she said with a smile.

**qpqpqpqp**

Charlie sat on the bench provided by St. Mungo's staff with his head in his hands. Around him nurses and healers bustled from room to room, checking on their patients with set, cheerful faces, no matter the responses they got from the wounded inside.

The weeks had been a nightmare for the Weasley family. The twins were sullen for most of the time and tense for the rest. Their mother had taken to her room, crying. Their father was attempting to put up a strong front, but even Charlie could tell he was close to cracking.

Ron was in the room to Charlie's right. He had been going to see his younger brother every day for weeks. There was little change. In the early days, they had been hopeful. Ron seemed to be getting better. They had fully restored the sight to one eye. The other had been lost, the poison from the little spiders too necrotic and too long set for the healers to do any good. By some chance, Ron had been petrified with one eye almost all the way closed. It was that luck which saved him his sight.

But for the rest…The spiders had gotten into the young man's ears and punctured the drum. The healers were not sure if Ron would ever be able to walk without getting dizzy. The other bites had become infected, having left to sit too long. Great gouges of skin had had to be taken out to prevent the dead tissue from spreading. But there too, the Healers had been confident that the skin would regenerate and repair itself.

But as the days had gone by, then weeks, they had to come to terms with the fact that while Ron's body could be healed, his mind was another matter.

"Mr. Weasley?" The soft voice of a nurse turned Charlie's head.

"Yes?" He didn't know the woman. She was new to the ward. She wasn't pretty, to most standards. Her nose was a little large. Her mouth too wide. But she had kind eyes, which put Charlie at ease.

"Your brother is waking up. Would you like to see him?"

Charlie drew in a breath. Ron had been waking up for weeks, but there had been no hope of sense out of him. He would scream and rage, or simply huddle in on himself, crying. They tried to talk to him. They tried to comfort him. But nothing seemed to work.

"I don't know," he began.

"Each day is a new slate," she said. Her smile did not dim. "Why don't you try again? Even if it seems like he doesn't hear you, I'm sure he does."

Charlie bowed his head. "And maybe that's the problem." He rubbed at his eyes. He loved his family. He wanted to be proud of them. But another part of his mind was furious with them. He was furious with Ron. He was furious with his other brothers, his mother, his father. His shoulders felt full to the breaking with responsibility. He wanted to do nothing more than sleep for a week.

"Your choice, of course, Mr. Weasley." The nurse stepped back.

"Who are you, anyway? I haven't seen you here before." He raised his head to look at her.

"I'm new." She shrugged. "I have to go in now." She left without another word.

Charlie closed his eyes, the light from the hall painting the back of his eyelids a splotchy red and black. What did he want to do? What should he do? The headache that had been threatening began to beat at the base of his skull.

He rolled his head from side to side, trying to ease the tension. He opened his eyes with a sigh. He knew what he needed to do. Ron was his brother, not matter what idiocy the boy had committed. They were family and Charlie wasn't about to give up on them.

He rose with a grunt, the blood rushing to his feet, making his toes tingle and sting. He stamped them a few times, garnering him a few odd looks. He ignored them all and entered the room.

The nurse was bent over the bed, smoothing a clean-smelling paste over the still red wounds.

"What are you doing?" Charlie had never seen the medicine before.

"Something new," she answered. She made one last pass over the infected eyes and stepped back.

Charlie frowned. "You do work here, right?"

"In a sense."

The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end. "I think I should go get a healer…" He started to edge for the door.

"He has been a fool." The woman capped the substance in her hands. "A very great fool, but even fools deserve second chances. It is up to him," her gaze came up and speared Charlie in place. "It is up to him," she repeated, "to make the best of it."

"Make the best of it? He can't even string two words together!"

"…'s loud."

Charlie jumped at the mumble from the bed. The woman moved back into the shadows of the room. "Ron? Ron can you hear me?" He clasped the one hand that had the least amount of bites on it.

"…Charlie?" The whisper came with one eye edging open. "Why's it all blurry? What happened?"

Charlie bowed his head, his throat too tight to speak. Blinking to clear the blurriness from his vision, he twisted around, looking for the nurse.

There was no one else in the room.

**qpqpqpqp**

Crom Cruach drifted. With no sense of space or time, he existed in the memories he had left.

The glistening circle of his followers, naked to his gaze, were ringed around him. The first of the year's sacrifices were bleating in their cages, the sounds drowned out by the rhythmic chant coming from the men and women around him. The children's eyes were frightened. Huge and staring, they focused on the sharp implements that would take their lives. Their parents, all faithful, were ready to fulfill their promise to their God. They would take their first born, their pride, and lay it upon the altar for all the world to see. Then they would slit the narrow throats, drink the hot scalding blood of their babes and roast the flesh in the bonfires, so all could feast.

It was his most precious memory.

Other flashes, of the mighty king who had raised his name from the peat bogs and the bone rattlers mouths. Tigernmus; he had been a wonder of a mortal, tall, muscled and with eyes that flashed with rage and conviction. He'd come from over the seas, landed in the murky bogs of the God's home, sick and worthless, almost dead. The God had no mercy, but something in those bones, in those eyes, interested him. Captivated him.

Tigernmus had raised an army large enough to be feared. Crom Cruach's herd of worshippers grew by leaps and bounds. The wild night of the autumns. The prayers of the faithful, crying out for rain and crops. Crom Cruach had cared little for their wants. The other gods would mind the rain and the harvests. He was a god of power, not some minor fertility god of no standing. The world was his to take, his to shape, his to own.

Then it had all come crashing down. Tigernmus had thrown himself onto the bonfires in a haze of ecstasy. The faithful had followed, and by morning's light, his once grand following was almost all dead, having laid waste to each other, thinking that the God had wanted their deaths in some great rite that only Tigernmus had known.

Crom Cruach cursed the day he ever met the mortal born bastard.

But now, now something was tugging at his senses. The sounds of screams. The sound of weeping parents. The sounds of children crying out from mercy, for help, for an end to pain.

A great shadow rose up from the ground on the west coast of Wales. The cloud looked west, hovering at the waterline. The calls were old. He had woken too late. But the misery from the Green Isle he had once called home was almost enough to touch. Something had happened. Something, no….someone had invoked his name while putting the first born to the knife.

The God slunk back into the slag at the bottom of the cliff, anticipation humming through him. His priest was coming. They had woken. They had _obeyed_.

The God drew back into the ether, but kept his senses tuned to the mortal realm. Soon, soon it would be time. And then…

A great cloud of birds rose with a shriek from the shore. A host of them fell from the sky, paralyzed with fear. They drowned in the small waves lapping at the base of the cliff. Inside the rocky caves, Crom Cruach laughed.

End Chapter Nine


	10. Chapter 10: Talking to Strangers

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. Please don't sue me. I make no money off of this. 

Chapter Ten: Talking to Strangers 

Auror Rayne stood at the gates that led to the Malfoy properties. When he had accepted Snape's proposal, his partner Daniel Gest had been livid with him.

"They're all a bunch of bloody Slytherins!" The man had raged. "You'll get sacked for sure!"

"I don't care," John had retorted. "You didn't spent that much time with Harry. He's so broken, Dan. It'll be worth it."

"You mean they'll pay you enough for it to be worth it."

John had walked away at that point, not tempting fate or Dan's chin with his fist. He rather liked having two workable hands, since he was sure he'd break something against that rock solid head of his partner's.

But standing at the gates and looking in through the wrought iron rails, he was starting to have second thoughts. The lands looked…dead. Barren. Gloom hung around the entrance and a chill wind had picked up, blowing steadily from the north. It snaked fingers through his clothes, making him shiver.

A soft pop heralded the arrival of a house elf. The miserable creature shook as it stared out at him.

"Has guest have an invitation?" The elf was clothed in tatters. It pulled at its ears, even as the eyes shifted back and forth.

He held it out between the bars. The house elf snatched it from his hand. The eyes lit up.

"Yes, yes! Master Auror Rayne! Come in! Come in!" The elf snapped its fingers. The great gates began to swing open, accompanied by a horrid screeching sound.

He took a deep breath, settled his robes about his shoulders for a bit of a walk and stepped over the property line. A shudder went down his spine, causing the breath in his throat to catch. He came across the wards coughing, his eyes watering from the surprise.

He paused to wipe at his face. When he looked up, he found himself in a far different place than he had imagined. _The wards_, he shook his head with a disgust at his own innocence. _They had a glamour over the wards_.

The actual Malfoy estate was green as the lands around it. The rolling park was dotted with trees. The manor rose up in the distance, obscured by the haze of a ground fog. To the right he could see the beginnings of formal gardens and what he could hazard to be a hothouse.

The elf led the way, skipping in front of him. Also protected by the glamour, the house elf was cheery, chipper and a good deal better dressed than he'd first seen. _Appearances, it seems, are everything to the Malfoys_. He shook his head and forged on. He would have to shake every notion he had about the ancient family from his skull for this to work. He couldn't go in prejudiced.

John had gotten a muggle degree in psychology from a local university before going into the Auror program. He had thought he had been done with the wizarding world for good, until a crime committed by a wizard youth had caught his attention. The boy, he'd read, had been thrown straight into Azkaban with little more than a farce of a trial. That had been the day John Rayne had packed up his London flat and headed back to the wizarding world, determined to make a difference.

What he'd found was a stubborn system, with irrefutable laws and an even more cantankerous judgment system. When he'd joined the Aurors, he'd wanted to implement new ideas, new tactics to help the guilty receive fair trials. What he'd gotten was a number of disciplinary notes in his file and the absence of a raise in his salary for years.

But now, now he had a chance to put the skills he'd gone to school for into practice. Potter had touched something in him, some part of his frightened muggle childhood he had yet to excise. He wanted to help Harry. He wanted to be the one to get the lad back on his feet and ready to face the world.

_Especially now_, the thought was grim. With the attacks in Ireland spreading like wild fire across the wizarding world, every rumor was being held up as gospel truth. The stirrings of the old families, especially in the Ministry as the vote for the new Minister came closer, were lighting fires under the common folk like John had never seen. There were protests in the streets. Preachers at the corners in Diagon Alley. And everywhere else a confusion of facts and rumor that had Harry Potter's name somewhere in the middle of it.

The door to the Manor rose up before him like some great guardian. The ancient wood was stained back with age and Merlin knew what else. He let the elf open the giant portal, having no wish to wrestle with the doors himself.

He was met by the Malfoy patriarch himself. Lucius Malfoy stood in the middle of the entrance foyer, his cane planted in front of him and a scowl set firmly on his face.

"Mr. Malfoy," John nodded to the man.

Lucius' scowl grew deeper. "I'll not have riffraff like you wandering about without an escort. This is not a free search of the premises, do you understand, Auror Rayne?"

John stamped down on his anger. "I do." He left off any type of honorific.

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "You are an unmannered ruffian."

"I do try."

"Muggleborn, I would guess as well."

"Why, thank you."

"Despicable what they're doing to society."

"And how is that better than the deplorable slump the purebreds have ground it into?"

They eyed each other. John could feel a cold sweat breaking out under his arms and down his back. He was in the Malfoy home, with the Malfoy patriarch on his own turf. He had no way to win, should the older man choose to fight.

A sliver of a smile passed across Lucius' face. "It seems as though you have a backbone." The silver eyes raked him up and down. "You'll need it." He turned on a heel and started up the stairs. "Come along then," he said without slowing down. "Mr. Potter is currently too weak to get out of bed. So we bring you to him."

John hurried after the man, trying to piece together what had just happened. He hadn't made sense of it by the time Lucius left him at a closed door near the top of the stairs. He watched the broad, retreating back with a furrowed brow. _Malfoys_, he thought with a sigh.

He turned to the door and knocked. There was a murmur from inside. He took that to be his answer.

The room was lit by lamps and a roaring fire. John almost staggered at the heat. His gaze went to the bed and to the boy tucked under the piled covers.

Harry looked far worse than when John had last seen him. The pale skin was lit by the flickering light of the fire. Bags hung under green eyes. But the wide smile was familiar enough.

"Auror Rayne!" Harry gestured him in. John moved into the room, thinking to leave the door open behind him. But some spell slammed it shut after he let go of it, giving him the feeling of being trapped inside.

"Sorry about that," the boy rolled his eyes. "I think they're trying to steam me alive sometimes. Draco says it's better for my throat. He must be right, since I'm able to talk more. But still, it gets to be a bit much sometimes."

"I can guess." John approached the bed. The boy looked nervous, from the way the green eyes were darting around the room. The cheerfulness was an act, he surmised. A good one, but still, an act.

"Mind if I take off my outer robe?" He waited for permission. Having a session in Harry's room was not what he had wanted – he would have rather be outside on neutral ground. But from the boy's looks, it was a wonder he was up to talking at all.

"That's fine by me." Harry was propped up by a number of pillows. A veritable sea of potion vials stood on the nightstand. John cast them a look before pulling up a plump, overstuffed chair.

"How have you been?" He laid that out as an opener.

The boy arched a brow at him. "I've been better," he said.

"You look worse than when I last saw you." John decided the blunt truth would work best with the boy.

Harry blinked a number of times before answering. "Well, I'm getting better."

"Not dead yet?"

"I quite feel like taking a walk."

They shared a smile.

Harry's dimmed after a minute as he looked away. "I feel kind of silly," he shifted on the bed. "I don't know what to talk about."

"Well, that's how we start." John leaned back in the chair and hooked his ankle over his knee. "We just get to know one another. Then you talk. Talk about anything. Everything. Of course, what the people who care for you would like you to talk about is what happened at the Dursley's. But I won't force that on you."

"You won't?"

"Harry, it won't do you any good to have this shoved on you. It's something that has to be approached by the person in their own time, in their own way."

A black look passed across the boy's face. "Tell that to Professor Snape."

"Professor Snape knows you need someone to talk to. Someone who isn't so close to the situation you're in." John leaned forward, keeping the boy's gaze on his. "And what is said between us, Harry, stays between us. There aren't enough stampeding hippogriffs in the world to drag what goes on here out of me, understood?"

The boy gulped down a breath. "Oh. Okay." He let out a soft sigh and dropped his gaze to the covers. "That's…good. Very good."

"Now. How about we start again. How are you?"

"Bored to bloody tears."

"And?"

Harry swallowed a few times. "Happier than I have been in a long time."

"And?"

"Miserable."

"Anything else?"

"Want a list?"

John let a small smile slide across his face. "This is where we get to work, Harry. You're doing fine."

The smile was wan, but the hopeful glint in the boy's eyes was encouraging to see.

**qpqpqpqp**

"How'd it go?"

Harry looked up from the book he was reading. Draco stood at the door, his back against the smooth wood.

"How do you get in here without me hearing?"

"Old Malfoy trick," but the smile on the blond's face was distracted. "How'd it go?"

"Could you do something for me?" Harry ignored the question.

"Anything."

"Turn down the bloody heat next time!"

"What?"

"It feels like the tropics in here." He pushed off his covers with shaky hands. "I'm damn near wet through with sweat. It's awful. Let the fire go down or crack the window. Anything!"

"Harry…"

"No, Draco! It's making me sick to my stomach. I can't stand it."

The flat look he got in return didn't phase him.

"Fine." The blond stalked to the window and cracked one open. Harry could feel a temperate breeze float into the room. He thought he might cry from relief. "Now will you tell me how it went?"

"Of course I can't do that," Harry rubbed at his nose. "It's confidential."

The noise Draco made was closer to a strangled cat than a properly brought up wizard. "Harry!"

"What?"

"Are you going to tell me anything?"

He sighed. Draco's annoyance vanished.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no. Here, sit down." Harry didn't blink as the blond crawled up onto the bed with him. "Look…it's just. It's something John – Auror Rayne said. He said he was the third party that I could talk to. The outside view for things that I can bounce my problems off of. It kind of defeats the purpose if I talk to you about the things I talk to him about, do you understand?"

Draco was laid out across the end of the bed, his head propped up with one hand. "Not really," he said. "I would think you would want to talk to me or Father or Severus about the things you talked with Rayne about. Since he's helped you clear your head and let you see what you need to see."

"What I need to see?"

The blond waved off the bite in Harry's words. "It's not like that and you know it. He helps you past the wall in front of your face, and sometimes those problems will be me, or Father or Severus I'm sure."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the blond. "Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

The older boy laughed, rolling onto his back. "I'm not that self-centered. Sometimes I have a moment of brilliance."

"Since when?"

"Since now!"

"Ponce."

"Scar head."

"I'll have you know that scar has healed quite nicely. Ferret."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, stopped and looked blank. "Well there goes a perfectly good insult out the window." He pouted to such a degree Harry was forced to toss a pillow at him. The resulting pillow war was waged at half speed, with Draco giving Harry enough time to load up with ammunition before they began pelting each other with the small throw pillows that had littered the bed for days.

They ended up sprawled diagonally across the bed, both panting for breath and with wide smiles on their faces. Harry was forced to stuff a few surviving bits of their war under his back so he could breath easier.

"Over do it?"

"I don't know. Was worth it though." Harry threw an arm over his eyes. "I haven't been doing much for days and I'm about to go mad."

"The great Harry Potter, not a fan of being a lay about. What a surprise." Draco's voice was closer than he'd thought. Harry dragged his arm down from over his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to fix the blurriness. It stayed.

"Harry?"

"Second." He rubbed at his eyes with his fingers, keeping his lids closed. The pressure hurt. He let go and opened his eyes again. The room was in a little better focus.

"Better?"

"By bits."

Draco was sitting cross-legged next to him. "Anything you want?"

"Probably the nasty green potion."

Draco handed it to him. Harry had long forgotten the names. He'd come up with his own system of telling them apart by consistency, smell and taste. The green was his least favorite, but it worked the best.

His eyesight took a moment to react. He knew his body was becoming saturated with the potion and he would have to ease off of it before it began to poison his system. But for now, it was the best cure he had for the nerves that had been damaged and he was going to use it for as long as he could.

Draco was studying his face when he looked back at the blond. "What?"

"You look happier."

Harry drew in a sharp breath. "I am happy. I'm here."

"I mean, even from this morning. You look…" The blond brows furrowed. "Less tense."

He let the sigh out in a long whistle. "Was it that noticeable?"

"Just to me, perhaps."

Harry leaned his head back to stare at the canopy. "It was nice to talk to him."

"Good."

"We started with little things, you know."

"You don't have to tell me."

He rolled his head to the side to stare at the other boy. "But you came in here to bug me about it."

"I changed my mind."

"Bloody Slytherins."

"Damn me, damn yourself now."

"Oh, don't remind me."

Draco punched his leg, though there was no strength to it.

"Did you want to practice?"

A funny expression passed across the blond's face.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

Draco wiped a hand across his mouth. "No, no. It's nothing. Just…" A strange smile curled his lips. "Never mind. No, I didn't want to practice going onto the Paths."

"Then what?"

"What if I wanted to come in here just because?"

"Just because what?"

"Because, idiot former Gryffindor, I like you."

"Oh." Harry blinked and felt his face flame. "Oh." He drew out the word.

"Sometimes I wonder about you, Potter." Draco flopped down onto the bed.

Harry felt his blush grow deeper.

"I didn't mean it that way!" The blond began to laugh at his expression. "Well, maybe sometimes that way." The outrageous wink had Harry hiding his face in his hands, even though he could feel a smile starting to creep out.

"Draco…"

"Is that so bad?" The older boy's laughter had died away. His voice came from much, much closer than Harry was expecting. He drew his hands away from his eyes to find Draco right next to him.

"Is what so bad?"

"Wondering?"

Harry had a moment to wonder himself if his blush would go away that day at all. "No," he said, but had to look away from the silver eyes.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Yes. And no."

"Then can I stay?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

"Good. I wasn't going to go anyhow."

"Of course not. You're a Malfoy." Harry rolled his eyes. To his relief, his blush seemed to be calming.

It flared back up as Draco turned his body and laid his head in Harry's lap. Harry froze, staring down at the other boy, unsure what to do.

"You," the blond shifted a bit. "Are far too skinny for your own good."

"Now you tell me," but the rejoinder was weak.

"Shush you. I'm taking a nap."

"And what am I supposed to do, oh Master Malfoy? Stay here like a good pillow?"

"It's so nice to have help understand their places these days."

Draco Malfoy got a pillow right in the nose. Harry was laughing as he scrambled off the bed, a playfully irritated blond in hot pursuit.

**qpqpqpqp**

Erin McVir stood on top of the battlements and gazed out over the fields that ran rife with her enemies. Their brilliant armor glinted in the sun. The war songs filled the air. Her battle armor was encrusted with jewels. Her war skirts were tight, slit so she could ride astride, and rich with thread-of-gold. She raised her hands. Her generals snapped to attention. She gathered her breath to give the shouted order for the charge…

"What are you doing, child?"

She wobbled on the bale of hay, almost falling. Gywn ap Nudd caught her before she could fall, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her about. She shrieked with laughter, latching onto his shirt so she would not fall – though she never had a doubt he would drop her.

He transferred her to his hip. "Playing pretend?" He queried.

"Yes." Her nod bounced her hair about her face. "I was the warrior queen who saved England."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

"And your enemies?"

"Worthless scoundrels, the lot of them."

His laughter boomed out over the castle. "They always are." He bounced her on his hip. "Care for lunch?"

"Yes, please!"

Together they made their way into the refurbished main hall. The castle had changed much since Gwyn ap Nudd had first woken. As the season changed, and more and more of his brethren woke, more and more, it seemed, their former servants woke. The castle repaired itself from the grasping dark, drawing its former glory from its sticky fingers as the sun began to beat off the mists that hung about overhead.

But best of all, Gwyn ap Nudd now had the voice of a child in his home again. A high, soft voice that would sing children's songs in the courtyard, draw on his flagstone walks and corner him into bedtimes stories at night. She was the bright star of his day and he would mourn the time when she chose to leave for the mortal world and be reborn. But that was a thought he pushed from his mind as soon as it dared to enter; he would enjoy the gift this child gave him for as long as he could. And he would cherish her memory for millennia after.

"You went sad," she touched his face.

"Yes, I did. I'm sorry." He hiked her up further onto his hip.

"Is it because we're having meatloaf?"

"What?"

"Meatloaf."

"What is this meat…loaf?"

"It's meat. Well, meatloaf." Her brows furrowed. "My Aunt Jane used to make it. I thought it was horrible. Uncle Barry said it was mystery meat." She looked at him. "Is there an animal called mystery? And is its meat called mystery meat?"

Gwyn ap Nudd laughed until he had to put her down. Her little hands went to her waist.

"Well? It's not that funny. Is it? Or is there really a mystery animal? Sir?"

He sat down on the stones and howled, drawing her onto his lap. The servants passing them hid their smiles behind his hand. Laughter had returned to the Halls of Annwyn. It was a refreshing sound.

End Chapter Ten


	11. Chapter 11: Practicing

Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter, nor do I make money off of this. Please don't sue me! The IRS owns everything already.

A/N: Thank you Moonfairyhime for being a wonderful beta!

Chapter Eleven: Practicing

Hermione had vague recollections of the muggle world. It existed in her imagination while she was at Hogwarts, an idle daydream for when the rigors of the wizarding world and their studies became too much. But being out on her own, in a town she only vaguely remembered, was quite another story.

The park was familiar. Her mother had taken her to it when she was little. The swings were abandoned when she found them. The day was quiet, a bit overcast and it suited her mood to a tee.

Hermione closed her eyes. She could see the headlines as though the papers were right in front of her. _Potter Is the New Dark Lord! _Read one. _Slaughter in Ireland, Ministry Suspects Rogue Death Eaters To Blame_. That had been from the Daily Prophet. The other papers had all had their speculations set on Harry and his disappearance. And Hermione…_Why do I feel so confused?_

She leaned back in the swing and gave it a push. The creak of the ancient hinges sounded loud in the silence of the park. There were a few joggers running about the small path that ran along the fence. The tiny pond at the far corner had ducks swimming in an orderly line, their young trailing along in their wake. It was peaceful, tranquil, muggle and Hermione felt utterly out of her element.

_Does this happen to all muggle-borns_? She drifted higher, enjoying the sensation of flying. _Which world do I want to be a part of? The muggle world or the wizarding? I always thought I'd be with Ron's family. We'd battle the Dark Lord. Get married. Have children. _She shook her head at the flimsy dreams of past years. Looking back on them, they seemed futile, weak, stupid even. _And Harry was never in them_, she realized with a jolt. Her legs stopped moving. Her swing began to slow down. _When did that happen_?

She let her feet scrape along the ground, stopping her movement. _When did Harry disappear out of the futures I put together_? She stared at a distant point, rummaging around through her memory. In second year, she'd fancied Harry for a few weeks – although she hadn't breathed a word about it to anyone. The crush had been short lived, for which she was grateful. But still, even in that year, she remembered thinking that they would be together forever, in one way or another.

Third year…she cast back. Third year they had faced their teacher who had become a werewolf. It was the first time she had been in direct danger because of something that had involved Harry. She was his friend. So she had been a peripheral target. Even if it was to get them to witness Peter's transformation.

_Perhaps it was the summer between third and fourth year_. She mused on the thought. But she had stayed at Harry's side during fourth year, even when Ron had turned his back on the other boy.

_No, it must have been the tournament._ She narrowed her eyes. The wizarding world was a dangerous place, she'd known that. But seeing students, her friends, her classmates, being exposed to death and disfigurement, while the crowd roared, made her realize in one moment that the world she had stepped into was as alien to her as the surface of Mars.

But it had become her home. She'd been horrified, but not for long. She'd accepted the arcane traditions, vowed to change others, but had aligned herself to the mentality of the world she had entered at the age of eleven.

_Ron's family helped that along_, the thought wasn't quite as bitter as she would have liked it. For all of Ron's failings, she'd liked his mother and father. The family was warm, accepting and more than delighted to have her stay with them. She was sure Molly had been making plans for her and Ron almost from the start of the summer between fourth and fifth year. The glint in the older woman's eyes had been particularly pleased, and while it had alarmed Hermione, it had been…nice too.

_Then it all fell apart_, she had to swallow a few times to make the sudden lump in her throat fade away. The frantic late-night meetings with Percy. The sudden hostility of Molly towards Harry. But Harry's place in Hermione's future had already been vacated, she realized with a start.

She settled both her feet on the sand. _It was the death of Cedric,_ the thought hit her with sudden brilliance. _That was when I knew. Harry had no way out of the wizarding world. No family he could turn to, like I could, if I wanted out. He was stuck in a place where everyone looked up to him, everyone suspected him, where everyone was waiting for him to fail. That's when I knew he was going to die, one way or the other, by the end of the war. It was just a matter of time_.

The realization hit her like a fist to the gut. She leaned over her knees, trying to draw breath. _I'd already lost faith in him, before Percy started with his lies_. She closed her eyes to the relentless voice. _I was already looking for some way to distance myself from him. And Harry…Harry had no one. We all turned our backs on him. We pushed him away and burned the bridges and oh, Harry_…

She slid off the plastic seat of the swing, crumpling to the ground. She buried her hands in the sand, the fine grains pushing their way under her nails. _What now?_ She drew in a shuddering breath. _Do I turn my back on him again, because of speculation and gossip? Do I smash the brittle remains I managed to repair last year?_ _Do I let the wizarding world shred their hero to bits and pieces, while they have no idea what he gave up to save them all?_

"No." The word ripped itself from her throat. She raised her head, staring at the distant pond. "I won't let them do it. I know they don't trust me, but I won't fail Harry again. He's my friend. He would never harm anyone. He's more than they'll ever know, or ever understand." A muscle worked in her jaw. She got to her feet and swatted at the sand covering her clothes.

She made her way to the street and back to her house. She had packing to do, and an argument to win with her parents. She had to get to the wizarding world. She had to do _something_. _And this time_, her smile became sly, _I have more than Gryffindors to help me figure things out._

She all but ran for home.

**qpqpqpqp**

Blaise walked down the dirt path that led to Neville's house. The property was set off a county road, then off a gravel road, with an easy Apparition point just behind a grove of trees. The screen hid travelers coming and going from the region. From his fathers, Blaise had gotten the information that a number of wizards and witches had been moving to the area, despite the pollution from the nearby large towns. It had something to do with the lay lines, was what his mothers said.

His birth mother was busy with the coming babies. The nursery in their manor had been made up with neutral yellow tones, though his Fathers had wanted blue. Ever practical, Blaise's mother, Hannah, would leave the final trim until the children had been born and their sexes identified.

_What if one of them is a hermaphrodite_? The random thought almost made Blaise miss the rock in the middle of his path. A stumble, near fall and various oaths later, he smoothed back his hair, checked the area for unseen watchers and shook his mind back to order.

He had promised Neville to go walking that day. The former Gryffindor had wanted to show Blaise the places he had been wandering around since he was a child. Blaise had no great fondness for tramping about in the wilderness, but if it was something Neville wanted – and more importantly, an idea Neville offered voluntarily – Blaise was more than happy to oblige.

_I hope he knows to pack food_. Blaise had managed to eat a large breakfast, but his stomach already felt empty and was whining for more. His mother had laughed it off, saying that his father had been much the same at his age. Always hungry, always eating and never gaining an ounce. She said it would herald another growth spurt. Blaise didn't much care either way. He just wanted more food.

He had a packet of squished sandwiches from the house elves of his manor, but he didn't want to open them yet. Still, the thought of the food made his stomach rumble yet again. Surely he'd be able to eat one and give the other to Neville. He'd just skip lunch. _Or perhaps Neville would share his as well_…

"Blaise!"

He looked up to see Neville waving from the porch. He waved back and forced his feet to stay in a sedate walk, rather than to break into a jog. He'd already embarrassed himself once on the walk over. He didn't want to do it again.

He climbed the steps, realizing that as he stopped on the second to the top, he was taller than Neville, who was standing above him. He looked down at his feet, looked to Neville, then frowned.

"Blaise?"

"I think I grew on the way over here." He studied his pants. They were, indeed, showing the tops of his shoes.

Neville followed his stare. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Just something Mother said."

"This is normal?"

"Apparently."

Neville's nose wrinkled. Blaise knew it meant the other boy was trying to puzzle through some thoughts he thought the Slytherin would not appreciate. "Would like a second breakfast then? Gran has a cold one out, since we didn't know if you had eaten yet."

He grasped Neville's arm, mounted the last step and hustled him to the door. "That, Neville my most wondrous and dearest friend, would be delightful." They had a bit of a foul up with the screen door. Blaise got it open without cursing, a fact for which he was most grateful when he saw Gran standing in the kitchen.

She took one look at him and pointed at the chair. "I've seen that look before. Thought it would be Neville first. Go on, then. We'll have a lovely second breakfast. Then you can take him out and about, Nev."

"Yes, ma'am." The sandy haired boy blushed, but slid into his seat next to Blaise.

"More for you too, Neville?"

"No ma'am. Just tea please."

"Smart boy."

Blaise watched the older woman work with hungry eyes. "Sorry," he managed, tearing his gaze away. "It just started the other week. I can't seem to stop eating."

"Such is the way of young men," Gran tutted while Neville blushed and smiled. She set a plate of scones on the table. "Get started on this – Neville you may have two at most, hear me? I'll whip us up some pancakes and eggs."

"Could we have sausage too?" Neville surprised him.

"You want sausage, boy? I thought you hated the stuff."

"I do."

Gran cast a look over her shoulder, snorted and rolled her eyes. "Lost, the both of you. Fine, we'll have sausage too. Neville come help."

"Yes, Gran." The light of Blaise's life slid out the chair with a wink. If the formidable Gran hadn't been standing mere feet away, Blaise would have kissed him.

Still might, if he could get the chance while her back was turned.

He leaned back in his chair and made short work of the scones. It was the beginning of a perfect day.

**qpqpqpqp**

Breakfast at the Black Manor was always a loud affair. Sirius' mood had been on an upswing since the news from the Ministry was that they could not find any evidence linking Harry to the murders in Ireland. He'd even got a note from the Secretary of the Ministry, telling him how they were working with all haste to formally return Harry to his godfather's guardianship. It filled Sirius with hope.

Ginny had also shaken off her funk. The youngest Black was going to learn how to ride a horse that afternoon. They had wanted to wait for Harry, but one look at his daughter's – _my daughter!_ – face had caved in Sirius' good intentions. They would go out today and have another ride with Harry, later on. The boy wouldn't mind.

Remus was the only dark note, if he could even be called that. The werewolf was still recovering from the effects of the full moon. The padded dungeons in the Black Manor had not been their ideal place for Remus to change, but until they could get the Wolfsbane potion from Snape, it was their only recourse.

_Damn slimy git_, Sirius pushed the thought of the man from his head, refusing to let anything spoil his mood.

"Can we go yet?" Ginny had been done with her breakfast in minutes.

Sirius peered down at his plate, then into his teacup. "Well, I don't know…" But he could feel the edge of his mouth start to twitch into a smile.

"Let's go!" Ginny bounced up from her chair, her cane planted on the ground. "Come on! It won't be morning forever! Please? Pretty please?" She cast large eyes onto her father. Sirius felt his heart melt.

He drained the last of his tea. "Right then, you heard the little lady." He pushed his chair back. "Bill's with us, right?" The wary look was replaced by a bobbing nod the second Ginny's stare swung his way. "And you Remus?"

"I'll have to stay here," the werewolf was still in his morning robe. There were a few scratches visible on the aging skin, but Sirius had the idea that only he could pick them out.

"You sure, Moony?"

Thin fingers waved him off. "Go, go. I'm still shaky. I think I'll go sit and enjoy the sun for a while." His smile was gentle. "The horses don't like me anyway. Can't imagine why." His wink set them all to laughing.

Sirius leaned down for a quick kiss as Ginny and Bill made gagging noises. Remus touched his cheek as he pulled back.

"Remus?" The look in the amber eyes was strange.

The expression vanished as fast as it came. "What?"

"Do you want me to stay here?"

The aquiline nose wrinkled. "Heavens no. You'd be bored within minutes and bothering me. Go on. Have fun."

He blew a raspberry against the unshaven cheek and bounded away. But the flash of emotion in his lover's eyes hovered in the back of his mind all morning.

**qpqpqpqp**

"So. How do we do this again?"

Harry cast a look at the blond. "I've already told you about six times."

"Well, tell me again."

Harry and Draco had managed to slip from the attention of the adults early in the morning. Harry had wanted to go out on the grounds, anywhere but back to his room. He'd made progress, much to Healer Fabing's relief. His nerves were holding steady. His body wasn't rejecting the potions they were feeding him. His eyesight had even stayed clear for an entire day.

But now Harry wanted out of the house in the worst way. He'd never spent much time cooped up before. He had discovered he'd hated it - with a passion.

"We need to find a door," he'd forgone the cane that Draco had wanted him to have. But the blond worked just as well as a prop, so Harry didn't mind.

"A door. There's plenty of doors inside the house."

He tugged on the arm he was holding. "Don't be fussy, Draco."

"I'm not fussy."

"Then what's wrong?"

The blond stopped their slow progress towards the formal gardens. "You'll tire yourself out."

"Nonsense."

The blond arched an eyebrow at him.

"Well it is."

"Harry."

"What?"

"Can you walk on your own?"

"Not here."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

"Harry."

"What?"

The blond gripped his shoulders and turned him. Draco's gaze was concerned. "Tell me what's going through your head."

Harry blew out a long breath. "Look, it's a hunch I have."

"Hunches."

"Yes."

"Slytherins don't work on these hunches, Harry."

"Well, I was a Gryffindor once." He shrugged. "Must be left over." He pulled away from the blond's hold to get a better look at two trees that were leaning together to form an arch. "There we go."

"What?" Draco turned, caught up with him in a few easy strides, and grabbed his elbow. "Trees?" His tone was incredulous.

"You're not going to go skeptical on me now, are you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Let's go, Potter."

Harry hid a smile. They approached the leaning arch, stopping so that they were just to one side of the opening.

"Now what?"

"Now we enter."

"They're trees, Potter."

"Brilliant deduction."

"Harry…"

"Look, they're trees yes, but things don't work in the Otherwold like they do here." Harry freed his arm and raised his hand. He ignored the fine tremors that ran the length of it. "Don't you feel it?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, closed it with a snap and shook his head. He turned to the opening and studied it. A sudden frown drew him closer. "Merlin," he breathed. "I see it!"

"Told you so."

"Don't rub it in, Potter. It's plebian."

Harry snickered and started forward. There was a weakness to his left leg he didn't like. He didn't know for how much longer he'd be able to stand.

They hit the opening together. A shiver of power sped down their spines. The world around them went dark, gray, then back to normal. Or as normal as things ever were in the Otherworld.

They arrived at the outskirts of what looked like a small town. The pristine grounds of the Malfoy estate were gone. The Dark hovered at their backs, but the malevolent presence Harry had felt before was gone. Now it was merely curious, intent, and watchful.

"Merlin." Draco had a fist in Harry's jumper. "The things you get me into, Potter."

"Would you rather go home?"

"How?"

Harry turned to look behind them. But the doorway was gone. "Well, shite."

The look Draco aimed his way was dour. "I told you so, Potter."

"It wasn't my fault!"

"You boys lost?" The new voice scared them both. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest, but something else caught his attention entirely. His hadn't even twinged when he'd jumped. It felt fine. Strong. Steady. He looked down and flexed it, a delighted smile growing across his face.

"Dearies?"

"Harry?"

"My leg works again!" He jumped a few times. He wasn't out of breath at all. "I feel wonderful!"

Draco's eyes went wide. "You mean…"

"Boys!"

They turned to the woman standing on the Path in front of them. She was glaring at them both.

"Sorry, ma'am," Harry said.

The woman…at least Harry thought she was a woman, gave them a once over. "Mortals." She shook her head, then leaned forward to get a better view of Harry. "Well I'll be stuck in a pot and roasted. You're the Dreamer!"

Harry felt a flush spread over his face. "Uh, I…"

"Merle! Come on over here and take a look at this! It's the Dreamer!"

Harry backed into Draco's solid form. "I really don't know what you're talking about," he tried.

"Oh, nonsense. You're the Dreamer that woke us all up!" The woman was plump, with her dark blond hair pulled up into a bun at the back of her head. The basket she carried over her arm was covered by a white cloth. The clothes she was wearing were centuries out of date. Merle, who turned out to be a moss-covered man larger than Hagrid, stepped out of the forests that were appearing even as they spoke.

"Come, come." The woman beamed a smile at them. "We'll have us a nice lunch. So many people will want to meet you!"

"In what way?"

She laughed. "To thank you, silly child. Who's your guest?"

"This is Draco." Harry could feel the blond's silent tension thrumming against his back. "We were just…practicing," he felt foolish admitting it to the woman.

"Excellent idea!" She waved the forward. "Come on then. The Door won't be back for a while. It's temperamental that way."

Draco moved, keeping one arm around Harry. "Temperamental?" He asked the woman.

"Well, yes. It's been so long since it was used. Gets quite cranky when it gets disturbed." She shrugged. "I'm Gwenn," she said.

They fell into step with her and the…man. Harry eyed the quiet Merle. "It's nice to meet you, Gwenn."

Her broad smile was warm. "And very nice to meet you." She poked Merle with a finger. "Don't be rude, Merle. Say hello."

The sound that came out of the man shuddered Harry's bones. Draco pushed him to the other side of his larger body, away from Merle.

"Oh don't worry. That's the way Merle talks. You get used to it after a while." The cheerful woman all but bounced her way into the small village. "We're not quite set up, yet. It's been so long since we've been awake, some of us are a bit foggy."

"Have you been awake long?" Draco kept a close eye on the creature to Gwenn's left, but his tone was polite and interested.

"Oh, I've been awake for a while. Don't think I ever went to sleep, really." Gwenn paused in front of a thatched hut. "Come in, come in!"

Draco went first, though Harry could see the faint wrinkle of his nose as he entered. Harry was right behind him. To his surprise, the hut wasn't a hut once he entered. The arched ceiling rose far above their heads. Two roaring fireplaces were bisected by a long table with benches on either side. It reminded Harry of the Great Hall in Hogwarts, only on a smaller scale.

"Welcome to my home," their host said.

"To whom do we owe this pleasure?" Draco was the first to find his voice. They stood with their backs to one of the fires, the heat radiating into their bones.

The woman set the basket down on the table. Whatever was inside gurgled and jostled the covering. Merle moved into the room, holding an armful of wood. They hadn't noticed it before.

"I am Gwenn Teir Bronn," she said. She bent over the basket and twitched aside the covering. A newborn waved a fist at her, a happy gurgle pushing spit bubbles past pale lips.

Harry exchanged a glance with Draco. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I don't recognize your name."

"Oh you wouldn't, laddy!" She lifted the child from the warm nest and put him on her shoulder. The cloth was in place for the discharge the large burp engendered. Harry heard Draco make a sound and elbowed him in the side to keep him quiet.

"So, you're the goddess of…" Harry let the question hang.

"Hm?" She blinked up at them. "Motherhood, sorry."

"Is he your…youngest?"

"This one? Oh no. His mother didn't want him." A dark look passed across her face. "The ungrateful wench was going to leave him in a place for trash. Trash!" Her sniff could have cut steel. "But I found him in time."

"Is he all right?" Draco's unexpected question piqued Harry's interest.

"With a little food, a good warm bed, he'll be right as rain. Won't you, love?" Her soft gaze transferred to the child. She cut a look to the hearth. Harry felt the Otherworld shift around him. A cradle appeared, close enough to the warmth to keep the child toasty, but not harmed. Gwenn settled the baby under soft blankets.

"Now," she whipped off the cloth that lay over her shoulder. Merle had moved past them to a bin near the far end of the room. "Who's hungry?" Her eyes were framed by a nest of wrinkles.

Harry shrugged at the glance Draco gave him. "Both of us, ma'am. Thank you."

**qpqp**

"Enjoy it?"

They were sitting at the long table, Gwenn opposite them. The food had been warm, filling, and better than anything Harry had ever eaten.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered after wiping his mouth. He didn't need Draco's lessons in manners to remind him.

It had taken some coaxing, and a number of reassurances from Harry, before Draco had begun to eat. Since the blond had taken the Vision Potion as well, the food would not hurt him.

"I'm not sure the food here would hurt anyone anymore," Gwenn had said with a frown. "We're so close to the mortal world again. It might not make a difference." But Harry's argument had been the one to win over the blond.

Draco ate with the precision Harry was suspecting every pureblood witch and wizard learned from the moment they were born. But his appetite had not wavered at the hearty stew, the crusty bread and warm butter Gwenn's table had produced.

"You serve an excellent table," Draco commented, after he had wiped his mouth.

The crinkles around Gwenn's eyes grew in number. "Such a polite young man." She sighed and turned to look for Merle. The moss man had disappeared after they had sat down to eat. "I am sorry for my Merle. He's a bit shy."

"If I may ask," Draco leaned forward. "What exactly is Merle?"

"Oh, he's one of mine. The last I found before I…napped." She wrinkled her nose. "Poor boy's been lost without me. Last time I saw him he had no moss at all. Now he's all but covered."

"Yes, but what _is_ he?"

"Dryad and something," she shrugged. "His mother died bearing him. I never did hear what happened to create him. But I have my suspicions."

"And he survived?"

"From what he's told me, he almost died a number of times." Sorrow made her look older. "But sometime in the last few years, he's managed to find refuge in some parks. Seems as though the mortals haven't lost all sense yet."

"There's hope," Draco drawled.

"Ma'am, may I ask…Who else is in this village?" Harry was full of questions. "And how do you leave here? I mean, not to be rude, but we have – well, Draco's father will be furious if we're gone long."

Gwenn's sharp eyes narrowed. "And your parents, young man?"

"They're dead."

"Severus cares if you're gone. So does my father," Draco cut in, catching Harry's attention. "And there's that godfather of yours."

Harry managed a smile. "You have a point about Sirius."

"And Severus. And Father."

"Draco…I think they tolerate me, not like me."

"Nonsense. Severus thinks the world of you."

Harry snorted.

"Well, he's not _demonstrative_, Harry. But he wouldn't have gotten Rayne for you if he didn't care." A sudden frown wrinkled Draco's forehead. "Speaking of, I wonder how he did that."

"How did he do what?" Harry could see Gwenn following their conversation with interested eyes.

"Severus would have had to go to the Head Auror to request Rayne's presence." Draco's narrow look went thoughtful. "I'm sure Scrimgeour was more than willing to have it happen, since he's challenging Fudge's position as Minister, but still…"

Harry goggled. "He went to the Head Auror for _me_?"

"I told you, he likes you." But the blond's attention was taken by whatever was going through his mind. "Still, if he went to Scimgeour," Draco drew in a deep breath. The concentrated expression vanished. "Well, we'll see about that."

"See about what?"

"Don't worry about it, Harry. It's nothing."

Harry could only shake his head.

"What happened to your parents, Dreamer?" Gwenn's question turned their attention back to her.

"They died fighting the Dark Lord."

She sat back, the sharp movement making them jump. "Who, now?"

"Voldemort. He was an evil wizard. He trapped the…"

She waved off the explanation. "Ah yes, the mortal wizard with ambition. Him."

"Who did you think we meant?"

"No one, child." She shook her head. "A bad memory from another time."

Harry felt a chill go down his spine, but could not place why. Draco didn't seem to sense anything.

"So what will you do with the child?" The blond was far more interested in the goddess.

"The babe?" Her eyebrows rose. "Well, I'll find him a family, I will."

"Here?" Harry looked around the great all. "Is he mortal or…other?"

"This one? Oh he's a mortal, dear. I can't go into the mortal realms all the time quite yet. But once I recover my strength, I'll be doing my rounds."

"Rounds?"

"To find the children that are left behind. The ones no one wants. They all come to me." Her chin rose. "I find them families where they'll be loved and wanted. I used to take the form of a stork when I dropped them off. I've heard there's a mortal saying about me now." The twinkle in her eyes grew. "That might just be why I've been so aware these last few years."

Draco frowned and turned to Harry. The smaller boy resisted the urge to smack his forehead with the palm of his hand. "The stork brought you," he murmured.

"What?" Draco's scandalized tones drew laughter from the goddess.

"Something my Aunt Petunia used to coo at Dudly. That the stork brought him." Harry gave the woman a wary look. "You weren't out and about seventeen years ago, were you?"

"Stars, no. I was asleep until this past year."

"Good." Harry heaved a relieved sigh.

"Storks!" Draco was still muttering. "I'll never understand muggles, Harry. Never."

Gwenn's smile was delighted. "Such lively young men you are."

Harry resisted the urge to blush.

"But you should be going now," the goddess rose. They followed suite. "The Door should be back in place. It never leaves for more than an hour. Once it gets used to us coming and going, it'll stay up all the time."

"Ma'am," Harry began. "Thank you, but I have a question. If we wanted to come back…how do we do that?"

"You mean you've not been taught?"

"Well, I have a teacher. But she's said we have to practice on our own, till we get the way of it."

"Greek, I bet." The goddess' eyes were glittering. "They've always preached teaching by the hard way. Silly lot, all of them."

Harry swallowed down the laughter that wanted to escape. "Yes ma'am. She's Greek."

Gwenn rolled her eyes. "Come now, I'll show you." She escorted them out and back down the road. Harry craned his head to look around the rest of the village, but there was no one else in sight.

"They'll be coming around soon," Gwenn answered his unspoken question. Her pace was quick, so that he had to hurry to keep up. "They're all asleep. We look after them, Merle and I, until they can take care of themselves."

"How many are there?"

"Oh a dozen or so. Mostly minor deities." A wave of her hand dismissed the topic. They were at a shining arch that had risen up out of the Dark to one side of the Path. "Now pay attention," she turned to them.

"Each Door has a name. The name," she gave Harry a look, "is written in the aura around it. From the mortal world, a Dreamer or Seer can open any door he knows the name of. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry tucked the information away. "Thank you."

"Good. Now this is the Door to Cnoc an aon Chrainn. Can you remember that?"

"Yes ma'am." The strange vowels felt heavy in Harry's mouth. He mangled the pronunciation with a wince.

"Don't worry about having to say it out loud. Knowing where you want to go is half the battle."

"It's like Apparition." Draco rocked back on his heels.

"That I don't know," the goddess said with a smile. "But off you go now, before the Door decides it wants to leave again."

"Thank you," Harry stepped forward. "I hope you find the baby a good home."

Her smile was soft as she reached up to touch his cheek. "Don't worry, Dreamer. He'll be fine. So will you."

Harry ducked his head before she could see his eyes.

"Thank you," Draco stepped up behind him. The blond rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I hope we meet again." He guided Harry to the portal. The dark haired boy spared a glance over his shoulder at the woman. She smiled as they stepped through.

"Oh you'll see me again," she said to the vanishing door. Her smile slid away. "I'm almost sure of it." She shook her head with a sigh and turned for home.

End Chapter Eleven


	12. Chapter 12: Harry and Severus

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. I make no money off of this. Please don't sue me!

Chapter Twelve: Harry and Severus

When Harry and Draco reappeared onto the Malfoy property, they came face to face with two rather irate wizards.

Lucius Malfoy seemed to be carved from ice and steel. Professor Snape, however, was so angry he was vibrating where he stood.

"Where have the both of you been!" The Potions Master's voice lashed over them.

Harry had little time to worry about their wrath. As soon as he reappeared, his left leg went out on him. The world went hazy at the edges. His chest felt constricted, sore and he couldn't seem to get enough air.

"Harry?"

"Potter?"

"Draco, what is the meaning of this?"

"Harry!"

Strong arms picked him up from the ground. "I will be having words with you later, Draco." Snape did not spare another glance for the boy as he strode for the Manor, his charge held tight in his arms.

Harry felt the world tumble around him. "I'm fine," he wheezed out. "It's just a shock," he tried to push at the man holding him. "I can walk, Professor. Really."

"Don't speak such nonsense, Potter. You collapsed. You were _outside_, specifically when I ordered you back to bed. Do you have any idea how you could have set yourself back? The potions have just begun to work." The Professor's snarl made Harry want to curl up somewhere and hide.

"Sir, I'm sorry," he tried again.

"Save your protestations and apologies for another time, Potter. Right now I am not interested."

"But sir…" Harry didn't get another word out as they entered the Manor. The pressure in his chest twisted the air from his lungs. He tried to turn, to get the older man to put him down.

"Stop this wiggling, Potter, immediately."

But all Harry could do was shake his head. Snape must have seen something in his expression, for the long legs stopped, kneeled to the ground and set him down.

Harry turned over onto his stomach. His back bowed as he wretched, trying to clear his chest. He wanted to cough. He wanted to pound his hands on the floor. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't _breathe_.

His second attempt at vomiting worked, much to his surprise. Blood flowed from his mouth, splashing across the aged wooden floors with an obscene sound. Harry drew in a lungful of precious air. Then he was vomiting again. His breakfast came up. His lunch with the goddess of motherhood was close behind it. He kept retching until he was convinced he'd thrown up his liver, stomach and all other organs in the vicinity.

He was aware of movement around him. Spells that cleaned up the bloody mess he'd made. Worried house elves ran about, getting bowls for the Professor, a towel for Draco who was at Harry's side. Harry didn't know when the blond had gotten there, but he leaned against the bent knees and tried to catch his breath.

"Potter," he heard Snape say. Harry wilted a little, inside. He wanted the Professor to call him Harry. _But I've gone and bollixed that up_, he closed his eyes.

There was a pause and then, "Harry." The Professor waited until green eyes opened. "Drink this."

Harry tried to take the vial from the man's hand. It was the potion he detested, but worked the best. They'd been trying to wean his system off of it, but the amount of damage he'd done to his internal organs, Harry supposed, must have been worth it.

He couldn't hold the vial without spilling it. Draco took his hand and together they got him to sip it down. Harry was glad the blond hadn't just taken then thing from him. It gave him the illusion that he could do it on his own.

Harry could feel the potion spreading through his system. It was starting to make him sleepy, every time he took it, but he wasn't sure why. His hand dropped away from Draco's. He could feel his eyes begin to close.

"I've got him." Harry couldn't be sure, but the Professor's voice sounded suspiciously soft. As though…_as though he cared,_ came the muzzy thought. _But that's not right. Professor Snape tolerates me. He's concerned. Not caring_. The thoughts chased themselves as the world revolved around him. Strong arms were under him again, lifting him with ease. The door to his room opened. The clothes he was wearing were Vanished away. A few cleaning spells removed the lingering odor of his embarrassment.

_I must remember to apologize to Mr. Malfoy_, Harry tried to remember. _I hope the house elves aren't too mad at me. I didn't mean to be a bother. I could clean it for them. I know buckets…_He pushed at the covers.

"Mr. Potter. Harry. Stay put."

"…'s all right. Can clean it up…"

"Mr. Potter?"

"Didn't mean…" The world was getting further and further away. "…'s a bad mess. Sorry, Aunt Petunia. I'll…clean it…up…" But the blankets were too heavy for his arms too move. Gravity dragged his eyelids down. Sleep took him before he could hear her strident answer.

**qpqpqpqp**

There were very few times when Severus Snape regretted leaving the Death Eater ranks. It wasn't even the thought of serving the Dark Lord which made him regret, oh no. It was the freedom they had had in slaughtering the pesky muggles that he once so detested.

The boy's confused ramblings had ratcheted his fury up to heights he had rarely gone to. He turned on the other culprit in the room. Draco paid him little mind, much to his rage-fogged brain. The blond's sole focus was the boy in the bed.

"Just what in Merlin's name did you think you were doing!"

"Don't shout," the boy had the temerity to snap. "You'll wake him up."

"A dancing chorus line of Veelas couldn't wake the boy up!"

"Well, of course they couldn't. He doesn't fancy them."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Get. Out."

"No. You get out."

He could feel his blood pressure soar. "Excuse me?" He knew his tone had gone deadly soft.

Draco's gray eyes flicked over him, even as he arranged himself on the edge of the bed. "You're clearly in no state to speak to anyone. Go away. When you've calmed down, and Harry's gotten some sleep, come back. Then we'll talk."

"Young man, you and I will talk right now!"

"No, we won't." Draco turned to him, hands resting limp and calm in his lap. But something about his posture made Severus want to step back. A light had entered the boy's eyes. A dangerous light that made chills go up and down Severus' spine.

"Harry needed to go out." He held up a hand to forestall Severus' snarl. "Harry hates being cooped up. Think about it, Professor." The title came off as an insult. "A room may be large, as grand as a palace, but to be trapped in it, day after day, it begins to shrink. Right down to the size of broom closet, say. Or even a cupboard under the stairs."

Severus rocked back on his heels. "He has told you of it?"

"He didn't need to." The glitter grew. Severus could have sworn light was shining _from_ Draco's eyes. "Rumors abounded during fourth year. We all knew. But we never said a word."

"Why not?"

A graceful lift and fall of one shoulder was his answer.

"We are still going to have a conversation about your idiocy," Severus tried to regain some of his former anger.

"No, we won't."

"Draco," Lucius said from the door. "Your manners."

"My manners," the blond lifted his eyebrows. "Are right in line with yours. Now, as I was trying to explain, Harry needed to go outside. He also," he cast a dire look at the adults, "had some practice to get in."

Severus sputtered. "Practice? In his condition! Draco are you out of your _mind_?"

"I thought he was." The boy shook his head. "But he was right. You should have seen him." The light was dimming. The boy Severus had known from infancy seemed to be coming back by inches. "He was fine in the Otherworld. Whole. Healthy."

Severus frowned. "Healthy?" He stepped towards the boy. "But he became violently ill!"

"I know." Draco sighed. "I don't know why. But when we were there, he was better than I have seen him in a long time."

"What, exactly, did you see in this adventure?" Lucius' cool tones cut through the room.

"A goddess." Severus clenched his fists at his sides. "A goddess of motherhood, to be exact."

The Potions Master exchanged a worried glance with his lover. "And what did this goddess say?"

"She was quite helpful." Draco tilted his chin up. "In fact, I think she gave us a very large piece of the puzzle we were missing."

"That does not excuse what you did."

"True. But it needed to be done."

"But not now!"

"When then?" Draco challenged. "When the Blacks come banging on our door, demanding Harry back? When school comes round and we're being watched by everyone? When?"

Lucius, Severus saw with some enjoyment, had no answer for that question either.

"So," Draco spread his hands. "It is now or never. If we do not learn to control this, it will control us. And I," the glitter returned. "I will not have anyone or anything control me."

Lucius' mouth thinned down to a firm line. "A perfectly Slytherin ideal."

"Indeed." The son and father stared at each other. The father cracked first. The Malfoy patriarch moved into the room, taking a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs near the bed.

"Was it painful?" Curiosity had replaced the anger. Severus could still see shards of the worry and anger in his lover's gaze. He knew Draco could see them too. He took the chair next to Lucius, his movements stiff and jerky.

"The crossing?" Severus found himself intrigued as well, though his rage was nowhere near close to the banking point as Lucius' was. "No, the crossing wasn't painful at all."

"Did it cause any harmful impediment?"

"Aside from the very full lunch I had, no."

Severus' fingers dug into his legs. "You ate there?" He wanted to reach out to the boy. "What on earth possessed you to do such a foolish thing? You could have been trapped."

The eye roll brought the teenager back into Draco's eyes. "I'd already taken the Vision Potion." The reminder of the night when Lucius almost lost his son made the older blond go rigid. "Because of that, I could eat there. Though Gwenn…"

"Gwenn?"

"The goddess," Draco waved a hand. "She said the worlds were so close together now, that mortals might be able to eat with impunity there."

"You will not eat there again." Lucius' command was undercut by a note of fear. By the sharp look Draco gave his father, the boy had heard it as well.

"No, I suppose I won't." The young man acquiesced with grace. "But we will have to go back."

"No, you will not."

"We are bound to. Pythia has set us this task. This we must do."

Severus' jaw was beginning to ache from the pressure. "You will not."

Gray eyes, cut with light, raked over him. "And, to quote her, how are you going to stop us?"

Severus leaned back in his chair, shocked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Harry is a Seer. The goddess named him Dreamer while we were there, but I'm beginning to think it means much the same thing. The Otherworld is as much as Harry's reality as this one is. As that blasted muggle world is." Draco leaned forward, pinning them with his gaze. "That is my world now, by choice, by happenstance, by whatever you wish to call it. But where Harry goes, I'm bound to follow. And if you don't want us stumbling into situation which we cannot control, then I would advise you to have us practice as much as possible so this ability, which you view as an impediment, can become our weapon, our tool."

Severus found himself able to breath again. "You do have an argument," he managed to force out between his teeth.

"And have you thought how this will affect your life, Draco?" Lucius was still on defensive.

"In what way?" The young man had the gall to look composed and calm. Severus' nerves were ready to dance out of his skin.

"Your future, a career if you wish to pursue it. An _heir_, Draco. How do you mean to accomplish these things?"

Draco tilted his head to one side. "And when did I say I wanted any of these things?"

Lucius' hands tightened on his cane. "The Malfoy line…"

"Will continue just as well if we adopt an heir. The Familius spell takes care of that."

Severus blinked. And blinked again. "So you have thought of it."

"It has crossed my mind."

"And yet you are determined to stay close to this boy, no matter the cost."

The graceful nod of the head was their only answer.

"He could _die_, Draco! And then what?"

"He won't die." The cold tone took Severus back. "I won't _let_ him die."

"Not even you can stop that."

The chin jutted out in a pose Severus knew all too well. "We shall see about that."

The older Malfoy looked to Severus for help. He leaned forward. "If the response to you _being_ in the Otherworld is such a violent reaction on Potter –,"

"His name is Harry."

"Fine. If such a violent response is Harry's only alternative –,"

"We don't know that it is."

"Excuse me?"

"We don't know if a violent response is the way Harry will always react when he comes back from the Otherworld. This time it could have been a number of things. You were weaning him off the healing potion, yes? That response is in line for withdrawal. The potion does contain some narcotic in it."

Severus frowned at the boy. "Yes, but…"

"And we don't know what all these potions are doing to his body in the first place. We're forcing them down his throat with the hopes, _hopes_ that it will repair his nervous system. Have any of these actually been tested?"

"Within reason, yes…"

"And for that matter," a new glint had entered the boy's eyes. "Which one of you thought it best to inform _Scrimgeour_ that Harry is at our Manor!"

The adults shared a guilty look. "That would be both of us, Draco," Lucius said.

"_Why_?"

"Because," Lucius looked down his nose at his son, "Scrimgeour is our best and only option to get Fudge out of office. _If_ you had been paying attention to the political world," the older man sniffed. "You would have noticed that the other candidate is basing his platform on _truth_."

"And will he, in the efforts to be truthful, since it will be apparent to all and sundry that you went to _him_ to get Rayne for Harry, blab the location of the boy half the wizarding world wants to murder and the other half wants to throw him Azkaban!"

"Do be calm, Draco."

"I am calm, thank you. I am as calm as I can be, thinking about this deplorable loop in your reasoning."

"It is not a loop. You do not know everything, young man."

"Then please, by all means, explain it."

But Lucius said nothing, merely leaning back in his chair and settling his hands on his cane. Severus wasn't sure which Malfoy he wanted to curse more.

"Ah, so we're to play that game."

"Life," Lucius' tone was glacial, "is not a game. Not this."

"Perhaps to you."

"You are my son!"

"Yes, I am."

Lucius blinked a number of times. "Yet you disobey me."

"I will, from time to time. It is as most young people do when they grow up."

"This is my house!"

"Would you have me leave it then? Just when I begin to show some sense of my own?"

"Draco!" The older Malfoy looked scandalized. "I would never."

"Then we are at an impasse." Draco frowned and turned to the sleeping boy on the bed. As he turned, Harry began to moan and mutter. Draco rested a hand on the boy's chest. Harry went back to sleep.

Severus watched the exchange. The child he had all but helped raise was growing up. He had chosen a path they had not expected from him. Lucius caught his eye and frowned, but the anger was gone from his gaze. They, too, knew what it was to choose a path that would put them in danger, though for different reasons.

"You will not practice without supervision," Severus said after a moment of silence.

"You want to come with us?"

He blinked at the boy. "What?"

Draco turned back around. "We can take you with us, though I'm not sure if we can protect you there."

"You, protect me?"

Draco's smile was a sliver of white teeth against pale lips. "Together, Harry and I are powerful. Strong. A force to be reckoned with. But with a passenger, I do not know how we will fare."

Severus laced his fingers together in his lap. The negotiation was on. "A valid point." The boy had the gall to look smug. "However…" He had more tricks up his sleeve than the boy had years. He would win this fight, whatever it took.

**qpqpqpqp**

The world was in a decidedly better state when Harry next woke. It was after dark and while his body was more than willing to go back to sleep, his bladder had other things on its mind.

This time he managed to push the covers off his body and swing his legs around to the floor. A small part of him was upset that he did not find Draco in the room. He squashed that voice with a vicious mental stomp. _Quite being such a baby_, he set his sights on the door to the loo. It wasn't very far from the bed. He could make it. _You've been through worse than this. Get moving_.

Standing up was easy. The first step was painless. Halfway to the door, he was hunched over and all but crawling to get to the toilet.

Finishing his business was an interesting ordeal he was fast to excise from his mind. He braced himself in the doorway, panting, trying to determine whether or not he could make it to the bed without falling down and alarming the house elves, and thus, his hosts.

Before he could summon the courage to take the first step, the door to his room opened. Instead of Draco, which was his hope, Severus Snape came into the room with a tray balanced on one hand.

He stopped with a small jerk when he caught sight of the empty bed. Before he could raise the alarm, Harry said, "Hello, Professor."

The Potions Master all but dropped the tray he was holding. The recovery was graceful, which Harry envied in his current state.

"Potter." The dreaded tone was back. Harry turned his face away, so the older man could not read his expression.

"Sorry, sir. I had to use the loo." He still had yet to let go of the doorframe. He wasn't sure if his legs would hold him yet. _Bloody big baby_, the nasty voice had returned. _Always such a burden. Always such a cry for attention. Brought this on yourself, you did._ Harry swallowed back responses to the voice and tested his legs. They would hold.

"I'll just get back into bed now," he tried to take a step. The Professor was there, sans tray, to catch him before he fell.

"Well then," Harry tried to joke. "Sorry, sir."

"Potter…" Snape's growl made Harry's heart turn over in his chest. "Come along." Instead of the biting insult, or even the sharp bark of disapproval he'd been expecting, the man helped him to his bed and into it. He did refrain from tucking Harry in, for which he was eternally grateful. _Snape? See me to bed and fuss over me? I don't think so._

Once he was settled, Snape passed him the tray. Or rather, slid the tray across his knees, since Harry could not hold it.

He held out his hands and studied the tremors. "They're better today," he noted.

"You cannot hold a tray, Mr. Potter. How is that better?"

"Yes, well, I was holding myself up in the door without problem. Thus, it is better. Besides, see?" He held out one hand. "Barely moving. That means it's better."

"Your never ending supply of optimism astounds me."

The food on his lap was mostly paste, a mash of rice and vegetables and something he couldn't identify. "Well, someone's got to be optimistic. Otherwise we'd all gloom ourselves into defeat."

"Most un-Slytherin."

"Well, I'm trying."

"Trying what?"

"To be an un-gloomy, optimistic former Gryffindor who is now a Slytherin."

"There are times, Mr. Potter, when I wonder about your sanity."

"You and the rest of the world, I'm sure." Harry still hadn't met the man's gaze. He knew his Professor was livid with him. He didn't want to hear it, not really. He was having enough trouble with the insidious little voice in his head. He took a forkful of rice and tried it.

"Do eat it all, Mr. Potter. We had the same downstairs."

"Is it dinnertime, then?" Harry cast a quick glance at the man.

"If you are inquiring as to why your constant companion is not here, then yes, it is dinnertime and the Malfoys had a prior engagement they could not put off."

"Oh." Harry knew Draco had parties he had to attend because of his name. He'd been lucky that the blond had been free for the time that he'd had.

"Mr. Potter." The dreaded _name_. Harry didn't like it when the Professor called him by his formal name. He'd hoped they had gotten past it. _But then you go and mess it up again_, the return of the thought made what little of his appetite he had disappear.

"Yes, sir?"

"What were you thinking, earlier today?"

"Which earlier? Because just a while ago, I was thinking I had to go to the loo."

"Potter."

"Yes, sir?"

"Answer the question, if you please."

Harry set his fork on the plate. "If you want to take me back to the Dursley's, you can. I know I've been a bother, sir. I didn't mean to." He wrestled up what was left of his courage and looked the man in the eye.

What he saw surprised him. "What in the name of Merlin are you blathering on about?"

"I've become a problem, haven't I? I've gotten Draco into trouble, made you go to the Auror's office. You don't need that kind of…"

"Stop, Mr. Potter."

"But if you take me back, the Minister can just declare that I've been there the whole time…"

"Stop."

Harry stopped, sucked in his lower lip and stared at the man.

The Potions Master – Harry really couldn't think of calling the man by his given name – leaned forward in his chair. "Mr. Potter. Harry. We are, by no means, ever taking you back to the Dursley's. Ever again. As for the estimable Auror Rayne," he flicked his fingers. "It was merely a way to call in some ancient debts I doubt I would have ever used."

"Still, sir, you didn't need to –,"

"I wanted to, Potter." That stopped Harry cold.

"But why?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I'm sorry. It doesn't matter. You'd do the same for any Slytherin. I'm going to shut up now." Harry ducked his head and stared at his plate.

"Is it so surprising, Mr. Potter, that some people, aside from that mutt of a godfather of yours, shows some interest in your life?"

"When you call me Mr. Potter it does."

"Pardon me?"

Harry stayed silent.

"Harry." He looked up at the use of his given name. "Does it bother you when I use your last name?"

"No, of course not."

"Lying, Harry, is a talent I shall have to get Draco to teach you."

Harry looked away. "It's just…you call me Mr. Potter when you're angry at me. And you have every right to be, I guess."

"You guess?"

Harry let out a sigh. "Sir, to be honest, the Malfoy Manor is nice and all, but I'd really like to go out sometimes."

"That was all it would have taken to get out, Harry."

He frowned and looked back at the man. "I'm sorry?"

Long fingers laced together. "You are not used to being able to ask for things and having them happen, are you?"

Harry wanted to edge away from the man. "Isn't this something I should be talking about with Auror Rayne?"

"More than likely."

They stared at each other.

"Was that all, sir?" The man's gaze was beginning to become unnerving.

"No."

_Drat_. Harry went back to his meal. The food was decent, if soft. The rice had a nice flavor to it.

"Draco has put quite an argument to the both of you practicing, as he called it, walking in the Otherworld."

"He did?" His fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

"Indeed. Such a good argument that we have agreed, both Lucius and I, that you should continue to do so. However," the word spiraled down an octave at Harry's happy smile. "There are conditions."

"Conditions?"

"Yes. The first is that neither of you shall leave or _practice_ without the other there."

"Okay."

"I'm not finished. Eating, Harry, would be best while I continue."

"Yes, sir."

"The other conditions are as apply. When you and Draco decide to practice, there will be either Lucius or myself there for when you both leave and return. You are going to be taken off the potion you so detest immediately – and while you may be happy at the moment, Mr. Potter, your system will not be happy for several days."

Harry's stomach dropped. "Will it be bad?"

"I have no idea. However, if a problem ensues, we shall conquer it. I do not want another reaction like the one today."

"Me either."

"Eat, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir."

Professor Snape drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment and then continued on. "Harry." He cleared his throat. "You will inform one of us when you need something, is that clear?"

"Sir?"

"You are not our prisoner, Harry. You have free reign of the household and properties, within reason. Your impediment, however, worries me. I would like to have someone with you at all times should you decide to go wandering about."

"Really? I can leave the room?"

"We never meant for you to have the notion otherwise."

Harry beamed a smile at the man. "Thank you, sir."

"Please, Harry. Do call me something other than sir."

"Yes, Professor."

An expression passed across the wizard's face too fast for Harry to read. "As for the rest of the conditions…"

"There's _more_?"

"Yes, now eat. The rest are thus: you and Draco will study this Otherworld before either of you head into it. There are a number of old books in the Malfoy library that I'm sure will be of help. Each time you come back from the Otherworld, you will write everything down that you can remember."

"What about using a Pensive?"

"We thought it better that you keep your memories, Harry, since knowing the place names of the areas you visit shall come in handy."

"Yes, sir." Harry turned his attention back to his plate with a stern mental reminder to shut up and eat. He couldn't try the man's patience forever.

"You will at all times avoid dangerous situations. Should something happen, leave immediately."

"But…" Harry squashed the protest.

"But what?"

"But what if we can't?"

"Then run away." Snape's eyes were chipped slices of obsidian. "Your death does the world no good, Mr. Potter. You and Mr. Malfoy will run _away_, not towards, danger. You are a Slytherin now, do try to remember. We do not charge into situations we do not understand."

"I'll try, sir."

"Do endeavor to do more than try."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. That is all." Snape leaned back in his chair.

Harry glanced from the man, to his plate and back again. "Was there something else?"

"No."

"Then why are you staying?"

"Because I want to, Harry."

Harry managed a few more mouthfuls of food before he had to push the plate away. "You don't have to, sir. I'm sure you have things to do."

"No, at the moment I do not."

"But I'm done. I'm sorry I couldn't eat more…"

"My purpose in staying here was not to watch you eat, Potter."

Harry was baffled. "I'm fine, sir. It's really boring to watch someone stare at a wall. You don't need to stay."

"Yes, but as you have not heard me yet, Harry, I said I _wanted_ to stay."

"Stay and do what?"

"Would you care for a game of some sort?"

_Tell him you want to play Exploding Snap_, came a devilish thought. Harry tried not to show his surprise. "Well, I…" He cast about. Snape didn't seem like the time to play cards, and the only game Harry knew was Rummy. "Chess?" He offered.

"You enjoy the game?"

"Not really, sir. Ron…" His voice faltered. "Ron was always better at it than me. Took the fun out of it, losing to him all the time."

The older man seemed on the verge of saying something, and then changed his mind. "There are a number of choices downstairs. Or would you prefer to stay in bed?"

"I can get out?"

"If you can."

Harry pushed back his covers and got to his feet. His pajamas were rumbled and his feet cold. He looked for his socks. He found a pair in the nightstand and slipped them on. He was a bit cold, but shrugged it off. He'd been through worse.

Snape was at the door with a robe hanging from one hand. "Do stay warm, Harry. A cold, even at this stage in your healing process, would be quite a set back."

"Yes, sir." He slid into the heavy robe. It fell to his feet and was quite thick. He belted it and looked up at his teacher.

"This way," Snape said and swept out of the room. Harry followed on shaky feet, but managed his own way down the stairs, through the halls and into the den.

It was a perfect way to spend an evening.

End Chapter Twelve


	13. Chapter 13: A Change of Luck

Chapter Thirteen: A Change of Luck

When Hermione was young, her parents had often joked about their daughter becoming a barrister. Hermione had gone to look up the word once she'd heard it. It had piqued her interest for a few months before her Hogwarts letter came. Then she'd put the dream aside.

Her readings, almost forgotten under the pile of Latin spells and arcane magical practices she'd learned, had helped in her argument with her parents. They had not understood why she had wanted to return to the wizarding world so early. They had begged. They had ordered. But in the end, they had given in, with a stern reminder that she was to write everyday and come home the second she felt she was done with her 'campaign' as they called it.

That was how she found herself in a rented room above the Leaky Cauldron, her trunk packed and ready for school and without a plan to proceed.

_I should have thought this over more carefully_, she tugged at the ends of her hair. _Best now to start as I mean to continue_. With that thought, she nodded, flipped her trunk open and retrieved a pad of paper.

The plan fell to pieces as she tried to outline her ideas. _I need to clear Harry's name_, she nibbled at the tip of her quill. _But the Daily Prophet is doing what it can. Still_…her eyes narrowed.

Downstairs, Tom was polishing up a handful of clean glasses as the afternoon lull hit.

"Hello, Tom," Hermione said as she slid onto a stood in front of him.

"Well, hello there, missy!" The gregarious face was split by a wide smile. "What can I get you?"

"Nothing, just…" Hermione made a show of looking around and leaning forward. "I'd like to ask some questions, if you don't mind."

"Questions, now." His smile faded. "What would a nice young lady want to be asking questions about?"

"Harry Potter."

The smile was gone. "What about him?"

"Do you believe all the trash that's being said about him?"

Tom's hands stopped their motion of cleaning the glasses. "Perhaps the young miss would like to talk in a more…private area?"

She leaned back from the bar. "If I won't come to harm."

A sad look crossed his face. "You're far too young to be worried about things like that," he said with a sigh. "But wars make adults of children far too fast." He jerked his head to the door set into the wall behind him. "Come along. I won't harm you, missy. Wizard's Oath."

She slid off the seat and followed him into the shadows. Her stomach was tight with apprehension and…excitement. _This is perfectly ridiculous_, her mind tried to holler at her. _You don't go into strange places with strange men! Hermione, you know better!_

But by then the door was shut and Tom the Barkeep had settled himself into a chair near a banked fire. "Tea, miss?"

"Yes, please."

He waved her into the seat opposite him. "Well now. This is a much better place to start asking questions. Wandering ears won't overhear."

"True." She took the tea from him, but didn't drink.

"Go on then."

She stared into the murky liquid and gathered her thoughts. "Why is everyone so focused on Harry? He can't be the reason why the slaughter in Ireland took place."

"Are you so sure?"

"Of course I am!" Her gaze was hot as she looked up. "He could barely walk when he left Hogwarts! He _died_ to save us, _us_, the whole of the wizarding world! Then you think he'd just turn his back on the whole thing and go off killing people at random?"

Tom held up his hands. "Now, now, miss, I meant no disrespect. I happen to like the lad. Nor do I believe in the rumors going around about him."

"Then why haven't you done anything to stop them?"

He blinked at her. "I'd lose business, girl. People would take sides. I have a rent to pay, a wife and children to feed."

Hermione pressed her lips together to keep a diatribe spilling from her mouth. "But that does Harry no good. If we, the people he gave up everything for, don't try to stop the lies, then what good are we?"

"Crusades are for the young," Tom said. "I'm too old, and have too many responsibilities to start one now."

"Fine." Hermione set the cup down. "I'll go find others who aren't so old then."

"Wait, wait now." He stopped her before she could stomp from the room in a huff. "Have you any idea what you're about to get yourself in to?"

"Well," she shrugged. "I thought I'd start by going door to door. I was there, Tom." Her hands fluttered in her lap. "I even started the petition to get him kicked out of Gryffindor! If I can see the truth in the matter, then so can everyone else!"

"Some people," he leaned forward, "are blind by their own choice. You don't know the half of it, what's going on here, and I think you should, before you start knocking on doors."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he sighed. "It started with a rumor from the Ministry, after Scrimgeour declared his opposition to Fudge."

"What rumor?"

"About young Harry and his dabbling with the Dark Arts."

Hermione swallowed hard.

"Now, as I've been told, someone told someone else that they'd had a whole Slytherin family come in for questioning – after You-Know-Who was destroyed – why they were there, we don't know. But one of the children said they'd heard Harry was taking a Dark Potion."

"What do you mean?" But Hermione's voice was not as strong as it was. She knew the truth of the matter. Things were beginning to look far more dark than she had first imagined.

Tom spread his hands and shrugged. "They gave the children Veritaserum. It wasn't sanctioned, oh no. Whether or not the old families heard about it, I don't know. I don't think so, since a stink wasn't thrown up about it. And the Slytherin child was a first year, and muggleborn. Their connections to the more political side of our world haven't been formed yet."

"They gave the truth serum to a _child_?"

"That's what's been said."

"But why wasn't anything _done_?"

"Because it was a rumor." Tom looked away. "Not sure if anyone actually looked into it. But once that rumor started to fly, people began to get suspicious."

"Suspicious?"

"About young Harry. About what really happened at Hogwarts."

"What do you mean?"

"Some people," the twist to the older man's lips was a decided sneer. "Some people believe that bringing the old gods back to the world was the worst thing that could have happened. That if Harry Potter had done his proper Gryffindor job, he should have been able to defeat the – the – You-Know-Who without the help of gods who've all but been forgotten."

"What!"

"Now, that's not what I believe. My family's been part of the old ways for as long as I know." He nodded to the wall behind her. Hermione twisted to see a protection charm half-hidden by the shadows. "We've all been barkeeps, my father, his father, and his father before him, all reaching back to when Diagon Alley first came about."

"That's…" Hermione blinked. "That's a long time."

"And the Leaky Cauldron's always been here. Was here when the Romans were here, though by a different name." He winked at her. "Their armies had a likin' for the drink, they did. And they were much more open to the idea that stranger things existed than people waving about with sticks."

Hermione bit her lip. "So…how are these rumors going to affect what I want to do?" She shifted the conversation back onto track.

"Well, miss, to be honest, we've gotten quite a bit of new folk hanging about the Alley." Tom ran a hand over his mouth. "A bunch of muggle born folk coming back to preach against the return of the gods – and I do mean preach."

"I don't understand."

"The idea of a single god came with the muggleborns, Ms. Hermione. The families, well I don't like using the term purebloods, but you get my meaning – we don't bear a lot of children. Not really. So when the muggleborns began coming into this world, they came in droves, and with them came their ideals."

"So?"

"So, a lot of the old culture was lost. People tend to forget that. Not the old families," he shook his head. "But the families who were founded by muggleborns long ago. They tend to think we've always been this way."

"All right, I think I can see your point."

"But the rumors, miss, are part and parcel of this world. We're a small community, compared to the muggle world. We guard what we have, because some can see us fading out, and no one wants that."

"So?"

"So, with the new murders, and with the fact that they were all muggles, people begin to mutter. People begin to wonder if that other world, the muggle one, have started to catch onto us."

"That wouldn't be so bad, though!" She leaned forward. "Think of the things we could do together!"

"Think of how fast they would be able to kill us all," he countered. "Muggles fear what they don't understand. That's a lesson this world has learned time and again."

"But it's not fair! It doesn't give them a chance!"

"That's true too."

"But," she sat back. "If I refute the rumors going on about Harry, people can change their minds about him. And if I push the idea that discovery…"

"It'll get you thrown into Azkaban before you could blink."

"What?"

"Ministry law. We don't mingle. We don't exist, not to them. Those who try, are first exiled from Diagon Alley and if they continue, they are thrown into Azkaban."

"Exiled?"

"A whole lot of people tried to get the muggle world to wake up to the fact that we were here, oh right after the first war. Fudge exiled the lot of them. They can't enter Diagon Alley, nor any proper wizarding area. Most of them went to London for years."

"And the others?"

"Tried to continue their point. They disappeared, one by one."

"That's awful!"

He nodded, keeping his gaze steady on her. "Yes it is. Especially since some of them weren't much older than you."

Her hand went to her mouth. "But what about their families?"

"Mostly muggle, and they didn't ask questions after the Unspeakables got to them."

Hermione threw her hands into the air. "That's part of what I'm talking about! Memory charms! Why we use them to such a degree…"

"It keeps people calm." Tom rose from his seat and went to the window.

"It's lying to the people!"

"Yes, it is."

"It's not right!"

"No, it isn't."

"It's not fair!"

"That it isn't, either."

Hermione balled her hands into fists so tight she could feel her nails cut into her flesh. "I want to do something about it!"

"About what? I thought you were focused on young Mr. Potter."

"I am! But, but, but _everything_ has to change!" She bounded to her feet. "The whole way the wizarding world works!"

"And don't you think, with the return of the old gods, it will change?"

"Not if the people you described keep going on and on with their destructive rumors! And why hasn't Fudge done anything about this? Or Scrimgeour?"

Tom turned, his wand in his hand. Hermione backed up a number of steps. "Fudge hasn't done a thing because he _wants_ the people confused. It makes them easier to control. Scrimgeour hasn't done anything because if he causes more confusion, he'll lose the vote."

"What are you doing?" Hermione filed away his words, but couldn't seem to take her eyes off his wand. "Did you tell me all that, just to Obliviate me?"

His smile was crooked. "Of course not." He held out his free hand. "Come on, young miss. Crusades are for the young. Old men like me," his chuckle was dry, "Well, we were youths once, too."

"I don't understand."

His hand had yet to fall. "Come along, miss. I think it's time you met some other people, who can help you much better than I can."

She took a small step towards him. "Will they hurt me?"

"I've sworn a Wizard's Oath that you'll come to no harm." His shoulders rose and fell. "I wouldn't have made it if I thought I'd get you into intentional danger."

His hand was still held out to her. She crossed the room and grasped it. His wand flicked up, down and then to the side. The world vanished with a displaced pop of air.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry liked the late mornings in Malfoy manor the best.

He and Professor Snape had been up late into the night, playing, of all things, a wizard's version of Risk. The pieces moved on their own, and each side like to jeer at the other, and large battles were rather disturbing. But it had been fun and Harry's side had known enough ribald jokes to keep the young man laughing for hours.

The Malfoys had gotten home late, each with a displeased expression on their face. Snape had disappeared after one look at Lucius, but Harry had been unable to get any information out of Draco. The younger blond had merely shaken his head and said it he would tell Harry later.

Harry had decided that midmorning was as much later as he could stand.

Draco was still in the mood from the night before. Harry didn't press him during breakfast – an event Harry had taken part of, downstairs, sitting in a real chair. He was smug enough to burst, since Draco had almost had a fit when Harry had made his, albeit shaky, way downstairs.

Now they were outside, with a stern reminder from Snape to not go far. Harry had an appointment with Rayne in the afternoon, he was told. Harry was looking forward to it; it wasn't everyday another wizard recognized Monty Python. He liked the older man's sense of humor.

Harry was guiding them towards the hothouse. The summer wind was brisk enough to make him feel chilled. The steamy warmth would help when he began to interrogate Draco about what was wrong as well.

_Already thinking like a Slytherin_, he couldn't tell if the voice was proud or derisive. He decided he was going to be proud of the thought. The door to the hothouse closed behind them. Harry could feel his shoulders relax from the moment they had entered. He liked the place. It had a soothing air he suspected Draco would need.

"Harry?"

He led the blond to one of the benches. The formal paths snaked through the undergrowth, before leading out to the small area where the fruit trees were held.

"I wanted to talk to you," Harry settled himself on the hard stone.

"About?" Draco had a guarded expression on his face.

"Last night."

The blond turned away. "I said I'd tell you later."

"Now _is_ later, Draco."

"Much later."

"Now."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. I can out-stubborn you, Draco. You know I can."

Fine lines appeared around the other boy's mouth, but Harry couldn't tell if they were from frowning or trying not to laugh. "I really don't want to talk about this."

"It's bad, and because you're not telling me what it's about, it has something to do with me."

"Very egotistical."

He didn't rise to the bait. "Very smart," he countered. "Draco, come on. Tell me. It's better I find out now than later." He let a wistful note enter his voice. "And besides, I hate not knowing. People have always tried to keep me from knowing things. The Dursleys, Dumbledore, to some degree." He shrugged and realized the wistfulness wasn't an act. He really _did_ hate not knowing. It drove him wild, in fact, he realized with a frown.

Draco sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "The reason I didn't want to tell you, is that we're not sure there's anything _to_ be worried about."

"But you are already worried."

"It's just…rumors on the wind."

"Rumors about what?"

"Someone in Slytherin might have spilled the truth about you taking the Vision Potion."

Harry's fists closed on the edge of the seat. "Well," he said. "I can see why that would be a problem. How did you find out?"

"Someone heard a rumor on the street."

"You're worried over a _rumor_?"

"It's a rumor that's making the rounds everywhere. It's a Dark potion, Harry. You could go to Azkaban if they prove you've taken it."

"So says Fudge."

"So says Ministry law."

Harry swallowed. "Who in Slytherin told?"

Draco opened his eyes and leaned forward. "That's the bad part."

"Someone we know?"

He shook his head. "From what we've been able to find, they brought in a Slytherin first year and their family. Questioned them."

"_Who_?"

"We don't know."

"But, but…" Harry shook his head. "Did the whole House know?"

"After you fell and had that vision in front of everyone? People put two and two together."

"But the _Vision_ Potion? People go around thinking these things?"

"I'm sure it wasn't all at once. Older years put things together. Then the younger years over heard it."

"Was the House…"

"None of them were upset, Harry. Don't be worried."

"But if the first year…"

"They brought the family in because the child was accused of using magic during the summer. Fudge was on and on about correct family values at the time. Had to make a point of doing things by the book. Then," a muscle worked in the blond's jaw. "Then someone fed the child Veritaserum and things got worse."

"When did this happen?"

"Weeks ago."

"But…why hasn't Fudge moved on it yet, then?"

Draco turned and stared at him. "You have a point."

Harry raised his eyebrow at him. "See, I'm good from something."

Draco twitched. "You're good for more than that," he said. Harry blushed, grew flustered, and looked away.

"Still, that doesn't answer why Fudge hasn't moved yet."

"True," Draco leaned back. "It may be…" A line appeared between his brows. "Well, it could be that."

"Could be what?"

"If you were trying to keep your place as Minister for Magic, Harry, and you had a damning piece of evidence that might keep you in power, when you would play the card?"

Harry scowled. "Right before the elections."

"Exactly."

"Damn."

"Yes."

"Which is in the fall."

"Yes."

"Which gives him time to verify it."

"What do you mean? He's already verified it."

Harry shook his head. "He has the word of an eleven year old child – a child which, by and by, he wasn't supposed to administer the truth serum to. What happened to the family?"

"We don't know."

"Draco, the child could have been seriously harmed by that potion!"

"I know."

"It's for adult use only! And even _then_ people can be harmed by it! It's supposed to be used as a last recourse."

"I know. We know. Everyone knows."

"Which is why Fudge won't play the knowledge until he knows something for sure, from a source which is _not_ illegal."

"Yes."

"What does Scrimgeour say?"

"He's gone silent. He's moved his platform more to the people, than the old families. He wants to appear independent, as Fudge is not."

"Damn."

"Yes."

Harry blew out a long sigh, his happy mood long gone. "What do we do now?"

"Now?" Draco shrugged. "We look for the family. If we can find out for sure that Fudge did what he did, then we have a card to strike back with."

"But…" A thought occurred to Harry. "If the rumor's going about that I've taken a Dark potion, then hasn't the way the person knows come out as well?"

The other boy frowned. "I'm not sure. If it has, then there might be two rumors going around. One in support, the other against."

"Great. Dueling gossip circles."

"It could be worse. They could be working in tandem against you."

"Don't remind me."

They sat in silence for a while, each occupied with their own thoughts. After a length of time, Draco turned to Harry.

"Why did you want to come here for this talk?"

Harry blinked at him, drawing his thoughts to the present. "I like this place."

The glint in the blond's eye had taken a different turn. "I took you here last winter."

"Yes," Harry felt his face warm.

Draco leaned forward so he could touch the reddened cheeks. "I meant every word."

"I know."

Draco drew closer to Harry. "I especially liked the ending of that conversation we had."

"Which one?" Harry curled his hands around the other boy's wrists, not to pull him away, but to keep him in place.

"You know which one."

A grin curled up one side of Harry's mouth. "Maybe you should remind me of what happened. Could be I'm getting forgetful. You never know."

**qp**

Their laughter was interspersed with moments of long silence. Adrianna Malfoy let the branch drop back into place, shielding the boys from view. The ghost turned away, joining the shade of her husband in the warm light filtering in through the glass. She was glad the boy had returned. He was just what her Draco needed.

**qpqpqpqp**

The ride across the rippling waves had made the priest sick. He'd clung to the edge of the rail, clad in his motley array of current fashion and vomited up what little he'd had in his stomach.

But the pain had been worth it. He stood on the shores of the land he'd once called his enemy and let his hands fall to his sides. The call of his God was close. Very close. The hungry, warm presence was an anchor to his soul. He turned and began walking along the beach, startling families who had come to the shore for a holiday retreat.

The winding path took him past narrow cliffs and chest high waves that tried their best to batter him against the sharp rocks. Every step brought him closer to his God, the sole center of his attention. He was almost there.

The black cloud of ether detached itself from a cave that smelled of rot and pestilence. It was a scent as familiar to the priest as his own skin. The cloud resolved itself into the hazy outline of a man. The image was fleeting, but the priest dropped to his knee anyway, hands pressed against the wet sand in supplication.

_Beloved_, the voice resonated through his bones. It made him want to weep, but he had long forgotten how. An ethereal hand passed across his brow. _I heard the screams of the first-born. You have started your work well._

"My Lord," he stayed bowed, all but shaking where he knelt.

_We must have more, child of the Masraige clan_.

"Yes, my Lord."

_Your name, _the God stirred. _Your name has been forgotten in these green lands_.

"Yes, my Lord. As has yours."

_Then we must fix that._ The God drew him to his feet. Lips which felt like rotting meat were pressed to his. The priest opened his mouth and drew in his God, supplicant, serving and sweet. He swallowed down the bitter tang of his God, praying as only his Order had known how.

_Now come_, the God drew him further down the beach. _It is long past time we rebuilt the world into our own image_.

The Priest followed in his master's wake, his mind vibrating from the knowledge his God had poured into it. There was a town, this _wizarding town_, some ways down the beach. He would not stop until he found it. They would not stop until all the world remembered the name of his God.

Crom Cruach and his Priest had been reunited.

End Chapter Thirteen


	14. Chapter 14: Blood and the First Born

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I make no money off of this, please don't sue me.

**WARNING: GORE ahead, graphic violence and lots of blood**.

Chapter Fourteen: Blood and the First Born 

The tiny wizarding community that sat just outside of Brighton was a sleepy place. Full of families intent on their holiday, none of the families realized that horror had come to their quiet place until far too late.

The hotel, which the Black family had stayed at during the start of the summer holiday, was the first hit. The power his God had given him was enough for the Priest to weave ancient spells around the entire perimeter. The witches and wizards inside had no warning what was about to befall them.

The night clerk's throat was slit by a sharpened rock that had once been a ceremonial dagger. Blood spurted from the wound, painting the Priest's face and neck. He licked his lips and swallowed, the coppery flavor reawakening taste buds long dead.

The first floor held a cornucopia of treats. Parents were bound by magic, their wands taken and snapped with derision. _Wizards_, the Priest knew little of such beings, aside from the fact that they were a threat. But the power that lay in them…That he knew for a certain. They fairly vibrated with the essence that would make his God strong again and restore his own failing flesh.

The children were herded to the small area behind the building. Hidden by tall bushes and a ward of silence, the sniveling brats were lined up against the fence. A few of the older ones had tried to fight back. The Priest had held them down and tore their throats open with his teeth, much to the delight of his God, who hovered over the area, soaking in the despair.

A fire pit was ideal, but the Priest made do with chairs and other objects that he could burn. The parents, who had been forced into submission, brought the necessary fuel for his fire. The children begged. The children pleaded. But the stiff movement of their parents did not falter, did not fail.

The fire was leaping higher than his head when he brought forth the first child. A pretty girl, with pale blond hair and dark eyes. He forced her onto the table, one meaty hand planted in the middle of her chest to keep her from escaping. Tears and snot ran down her face. Her parents stepped forward with a crook of a finger.

"Your new God bids you welcome," he whispered to them. Their steps faltered. The Priest frowned and pursed his lips. _They are strong_, he decided. He would need others for his following. He could not be fought. He was the Priest. His God would be his and his alone.

The parents arrived at his side. He forced the knife into the woman's hands. She was shaking her head. With his now free hand, he gripped the back of her skull. The power from his God channeled through him, lifting her arm. The blade was painted red, yellow and orange from the fire. It fell.

The child screamed. The blade rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell. The screams tapered off with every arch of the now-bloody blade.

Once the child was dead, he tossed the woman away. Scooping up the leaking intestines, he turned to the fire and raised them high. He brought the succulent organs to his mouth.

He feasted.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry was asleep. He knew he was asleep. He remembered crawling under the covers, ignoring the snoring blond that was collapsed at the foot of his bed. It had been a good day. A peaceful day. A…he blushed. _A very good day_, he skipped over the kisses in the hothouse. He _liked_ Draco. He liked him a lot. But half the time the idea that the blond liked him back, _liked him_ liked him back, was enough to send him into a blush that would not fade for hours.

So he knew he was asleep, and that would be his excuse for the irate adults that were sure to be there when he awoke.

He was not on a Path. He had arrived in darkness, with no sense of up nor down, just the knowledge that he was _there_.

"Draco?" He tried to move forward, but the sense of being stuck washed through him. He looked down at his feet. He thought he could bend his knee. Move his foot. But there was nothing, no marker that told him if he was indeed moving or not.

No answer came. He rubbed at his face, trying to decide what to do next. _Run_, the memory of his Professor's words came back to him. _Slytherins do not run into danger we do not understand, Mr. Potter_.

He made a face at the tone, but agreed with the sentiment. Problem was, he couldn't move. There was no Door to leave by, no Path he could follow to get out.

_ I think I'm in the abyss_, he wasn't disoriented by the dark that hovered around him. The fear he'd once felt in the place was gone. Now the aura felt watchful, almost…worried.

_ Why is it worried_? He tried again to move. This time the world around him whirled, twisted by light and sound. He raised his hands to shield his head.

He was standing above a beach. There were fires raging through all the houses. A thick smell wafted through the air, turning his stomach. He wanted to wretch. He tried to vomit. It didn't work.

His disembodied spirit drew closer, though not by his choice. The Dark had him, and the Dark wanted him to See.

Bodies littered the sand. Some were whole, some were…not. Adults in various states of disarray soaked the sands red with blood. Some were still alive. And what they were doing…

One man had ripped his own tongue out and was burying it in the sand. Others had ripped out their eyes. One woman was digging her hands into her midriff, which was split open, the edges of the wound gaping like an obscene mouth. She was pulling handfuls of her stomach and other organs out onto the sand. She wept the entire time.

The utter foulness of the scene seared into Harry's memory. He pushed invisible hands at the horror, as though he could push the reality away by will alone.

_ No_, he was screaming, but could hear no sound. _Oh please, Merlin, no. Not again. This can't be happening again_!

"Dream child?"

The Morrigan's voice was enough to jar him from the shock that was overtaking his brain. He turned to her and threw his spirit into her arms.

"Child, what are you doing here?"

"I – I –," he couldn't draw enough breath to speak.

"I followed my enemy's scent to this spot. I find horror instead of my prey, and then you. Child, what are you doing here?" How she was with him, in the Dark, Harry did not know, but was grateful for her presence.

"I don't _know_. I was asleep! It brought me here…"

"What brought you here?" Warm, strong arms held him tight.

"The Dark."

The hands on his back went still. "An interesting development."

He pulled back to see her face. The carved alabaster of her skin was shaded by moonlight. Her dark hair was still as wild as ever, but her eyes, her eyes battled fatigue and rage all at the same time.

"What's wrong?"

She blinked and the rage was gone. "I do not know, my dream child. I wish I did."

"Who would do such a thing?" Harry shivered. "Voldemort did, but he's dead! He _has_ to be dead!"

"The man who was bound to you," she touched the fading scar on his skin, "his presence is not here. But another's is." A line appeared between her brows. "I must go, child. Before the scent fades again."

"But…"

"Sleep, child." She leaned forward and touched her lips to his forehead. "Go back to your body and sleep."

"But…" But the Morrigan's will was enough. The Dark relinquished its hold on him. Harry's world went white.

**qpqp**

The boy's body arched off the bed. Draco had Harry's head cradled in his lap, a hopeless, lost look in his eyes. Severus had the boy's legs. Lucius tried his best to keep the narrow chest flat, but even they were thwarted by the magic than ran though the boy's veins.

They had been woken by Harry's screams. For one, long terrifying moment, Severus had lain in bed, wondering if all the years had been a dream, and that he was back in Voldemort's service, in the middle of a raid and had taken a stunner.

But Lucius' warm body next to him jarred him back to the right place and time. Not bothering with more than a robe, they had flown down to the boy's bedroom to find Draco already there.

Blood soaked the sheets. _Where does the boy get all this_? Severus knew there was a limit to how much a body could hold. He worried that Potter was close to bleeding out.

Some came from the boy's mouth. Harry had bitten his own tongue while thrashing. Some leaked from his eyes. The rest…Severus looked, but could not find the source. He refused to admit that fact scared him.

With a last, horrifying scream, the boy went limp. Draco pounced, twisting around while holding Harry's head in his hands.

"Harry?" He leaned in close. "Harry, come on. Wake up." Severus noted the older boy was shaking. "Please?" The wavering note made him turn his head away.

The body beneath their hands coughed. A wet, rattling sound worked its way from his chest. Lucius leapt off the boy, even as Severus let go of his legs. Harry turned onto his stomach and tried to vomit. Little emerged but a watery trickle of what they'd had for supper.

"Harry!" Draco was off the bed and at his side. Harry gripped the blond's arms and tried to speak.

"Need…P-P-Prof'sser…"

"He's here, Harry."

"Your…dad…"

"Harry, what…" Draco helped the boy into a sitting position.

"Beach…" Harry twisted his head and managed not to hit the blond as his stomach tried to expel some imaginary intruder. _Or memory_, Severus' mind whispered.

"Harry?" Lucius knelt at the boy's side. Severus was there in an instant.

"Blood…" Harry reached out and grabbed for Severus. _My heart did not twist_, he snarled to the whispering voices in his head. _He merely needs to_…

"Massacre," Harry buried his face in the Professor's chest. "To the…south. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Harry?"

"I…" He twisted his head to look at Draco. "I didn't…mean to go. The Dark…" Harry's eyes were beginning to glaze. "The Dark took me. I'm sorry…"

"It's alright, Harry." Draco was close to pulling the boy from his grip. Severus refused to let go. _After all, he reached for me_. He didn't know this feeling spreading through his chest. He attested the warmth to Potter's tears.

"Blood…on the…beach…" Was the last thing Harry said before slipping into unconsciousness. Severus held on for a few seconds more. Then he lifted the body away from the floor, cradling it in his arms.

"We need to get the room cleaned," was the first thing out of his mouth. He didn't know why.

"The room? The room! Who cares about the room! Let the house elves deal with it." Draco was all but hopping from foot to foot. "Blood on the beach. Why was he raving about…" Draco's eyes went wide. Severus saw Lucius reach for his son.

"There must have been another attack." Draco bowed his head a few inches. "But why…" He narrowed his eyes. "The Dark." A snap of the fingers had both adults flinching. Draco reached for Harry. "Please. I need him. We have to go."

"You are _not_ going anywhere." Lucius wrapped a hand around his son's forearm.

"We have to," Draco shook his head. "I know where we need to go. We have to find Pythia. We need her."

"You are _not_ going alone."

"Then how…" Draco began to erupt. Then he got a long look at his father's face. "Fine. But you mustn't over react. I don't know if we'll even get to her. But there's a place where I know we can get to first."

"Where?"

Draco's eyes flashed with a power Severus could not name. "Cnoc an aon Chriann." Magic shuddered through the room. The house elves, who had been cleaning the mess, yelped and disappeared. The outline of the doorway leading to the hall was a blazing line of silver light.

"Draco, how did you…"

"No time." He took Harry from Severus' loose hold. The Potions Master all but snatched him back. Then the blond was off, heading for the door.

Severus spared a look at his lover, but Lucius only had eyes for his son. They were on his heels, their robes half soaked with blood and other liquids, passing through a Door neither had ever been through in their life.

Severus had one moment to be terrified. The next moment, the world changed.

**qpqpqpqp**

The last weeks of Scrimgeours's position as Head Auror were turning out to be bloody ones. He was still confident that he would take the Minister's office, but he was not about to give up his position in the Auror office before the vote came. Just in case.

Rufus had thought he had seen horror in Ireland. The scene that was before him was beyond everything he could have imagined.

Healers were running about the beach, trying to save those they could. Most of the adults were dead before help could reach them. One woman, whose insides lay on the golden-red sands about her, gasped her last breath as Rufus held her hand. It was a memory he could have done without.

The same Unspeakable that had been in Ireland was there. The man – Rufus still did not know his name – was going from one body to the next, casting a spell the Auror had never heard before. With each cast, the man had grown more and more angry.

He stopped before the man Rufus had found lying near some rocks. He was a middle-aged man, with a head of hair that was thinning in the front. He had gouged out his eyes. His legs were broken in a variety of places. There was little hope for him, Rufus had heard one of the Healers say.

"What's his name?" The Unspeakable didn't even look at Rufus.

"I don't know."

The man crouched down next to the victim. A wand pointed at the man's head fired a spell before Rufus could react. The man went stiff, his grip crushing the Auror's hand.

"State your name."

"William Maxwell."

"Are you a wizard, Mr. Maxwell?"

"Yes."

"What happened here?"

"I – I…" The man tried to shake his head. Blood began to seep from the ruins of his eyes. "He came. We never heard the wards. They didn't go off like they should have."

"Who came?"

"The man."

"What man?"

"The man!" Mr. Maxwell convulsed. "He cast spells! We couldn't do anything! Oh Cindy, Cindy, Cindy…"

"Who's Cindy, Mr. Maxwell?"

"My – my daughter."

"What happened to your daughter?"

"He…he killed her!"

"He killed her?"

"He made us kill her! He had the knife! It rose and fell, rose and fell…" The man broke off, sobbing.

"Stop this," Rufus hissed at the Unspeakable.

"Be silent, Auror." The other man's eyes were devoid of emotion. "I will get my answers. Mr. Maxwell, do you know who did this?"

"No."

"Did you recognize anyone you saw?"

"Just the others…and the boy."

Rufus felt a cold chill run up his spine. The Unspeakable's eyes glittered. "What boy?" The man asked.

"The boy…he was in the air! And the crow! They were watching us! They did nothing!"

"Who was the boy?"

"I don't know!" Maxwell's voice was starting to fade. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know…"

"Was it Mr. Potter, Mr. Maxwell? Maxwell?" The Unspeakable reached forward to grasp the man's face. His thumbs dug into the pale cheeks. "Maxwell, answer me!"

"He's gone, man!" Rufus tried to break the man's hold. "You and I both know it couldn't be Mr. Potter. How dare you make such a…"

The Unspeakable turned on him. Rufus found himself flying several feet back, with a sore jaw to boot. The man was panting, his hands curled into fists at his side.

"This is _not_ some Death Eater work, Scrimgeour. This is the work of a Dark Lord, a twisted, evil mind. It's using the gods to betray us!" The narrow chest rose and fell with each panted breath. "Can't you see it? We've all sinned. We've all turned our backs to the truth. This is the fault of the ones who brought the old gods back. And that means _Harry Potter_ is the one who did this." The Unspeakable rose to his full height. "I will end this, Scrimgeour, one way or the other. Don't get in my way."

Rufus watched the man go with wide, horrified eyes. _This is getting out of control_. He rolled to his hands and knees, still feeling faint. _I need to warn them all. This has to be contained_. He set his jaw, wincing at the forming bruise. _Perhaps my time in the office has gone long enough. I need to make a stand. The wizarding world needs to know what's going on_. He stood, brushing off the fine grains of sand from his robes. "You're right," he muttered to the man's retreating back. "One way or the other, this will end."

**qpqpqpqp**

Draco held Harry tight in his arms. He could feel his father and Severus enter through the Door at his back. He waited long enough for them to get their bearings, and then he was off, striding down the dirt road that led to the sleepy row of huts.

"Gwenn?" The hut he remembered was silent. He kicked at the door with one foot. "Gwenn?"

The door swung open. It was Merle that faced him, instead of the goddess he'd been expecting. Draco swallowed back a yelp of fear.

"Hello, Merle," he said. The moss covered man stared at him with unreadable eyes. "I need to speak to Gwenn. It's important. Please?"

Merle rumbled at him. Draco tried not to flinch. Then the man reached forward and grasped Draco, pulling him inside. Merle put his body between him and the two adults left outside.

"Draco? Draco!" He could hear his father's voice.

"I'm fine," he called past the bulk that blocked his view. "Merle, that's my father. He's a good man. That's Severus with him. They're both good people. Let them in? Please?"

Merle did not move.

"Please?" He didn't care that he was a hair's breadth from begging. Harry was unresponsive in his arms. "Merle, Harry's hurt. I need Gwenn's help to get him to Pythia. And I need them to come to. So, _please_…"

"Draco?"

The sound of the goddess' voice almost brought him to tears. He turned, Harry still laying limp in his hold.

"Gwenn, I need your help."

The goddess strode up to him, wiping her hands with a rough towel. "Give him here, lad. Merle, move. Let the nice men in." Her strong arms took Harry as though he weighed nothing at all. Merle moved with a low rumble, just far enough so that Lucius and Severus could squeeze through.

"What happened?" Gwenn snapped her question at him. Draco knelt next to her. She'd laid Harry out on the hearth, her hands gently arranging his body.

"He said he was taken by the Dark to see something." Draco wiped at the blood on his hands. "He said there was blood on the beach. Something happened, or _will_ happen, I don't know. We need to get to Pythia. She can help him."

"Greeks," Gwenn muttered. A basket full of unmarked jars appeared at her elbow, as if she had summoned them. She cast a glance at the other men in the room. "Who are they, young lad?"

"My father, Lucius. That's my…godfather, Severus." He wasn't about to go into the convoluted story between the two men. It would keep for another time. "What's wrong with him? Can you help us? He was fine when we came here before…"

"He'll be right as rain, dear." She uncapped a small jar and waved it under Harry's nose. The smaller boy made a face and groaned. "There we go. He'll feel a bit under the weather for a while. Being taken by the Dark does that to a body."

"Then you know what happened?"

She shook her head and sat back on her heels. "Not exactly. It's been millennia since we've had a Dreamer here as powerful as he is. The Dark is a strange thing, lad. It's alive, but not alive. I'm sure your teacher can tell you more."

"Can you get us there?"

Her sharp gaze raked him over. Then she nodded. "Yes. It'll take some doing, though, I warn you." She stood and wiped her hands off on her skirts. "Take the Dreamer, lad. You two," she turned her attention to the adults. "Come with me."

She pushed her way past Merle and into the dusty street. Draco followed close on her heels. Severus and Lucius had yet to say a word, for which Draco was grateful. He knew the situation was well out of their bounds of comfort. Both of the men could get a bit grumpy when that happened. The last thing they needed was an irate goddess of Motherhood taking his father and his father's lover to task.

They passed the other huts that lay along the small road. Draco couldn't help but peek at them as he hurried to keep up. But the doorways stayed shut and the windows were dark, showing no signs of life.

"Here," Gwenn stopped at the far edge of the small village. "The Path forks here. The right fork will take you to a Market. The left leads into the Dark and then stops." She turned and placed her hands on Draco's shoulders. "Take the left fork and follow it until it stops. When you get to the end, _make_ a Door, do you understand?"

"No," he shook his head. "We haven't covered that…"

"Use your fathers as anchors. You'll need their strength. If your Dreamer were awake, the both of you could do this. But he's too tired to try this, and the Dark would only end up taking him again. Anchor your mind to them." She stared into his eyes. "Use their power to reach and find the place you wish to go. Do you understand?"

"I…think so." He gulped down a breath. "Can't you help us?"

"No, child. I can't." She leaned forward and kissed his brow. "Go now, before the Dark becomes aware you're here. If it's taken him once, it'll be able to do it again. You'll be safe with your Greek until she can teach you how to guard against it. Go now." With a gentle push, she prodded him down the path.

"And the two of you," she waggled a finger at the adults. "Do as he says and don't argue."

Draco didn't hear if they replied. He hurried down the left hand Path, into the Dark. With each step they took, the more the gray fog began to wrap around them. The lighted trail grew dimmer the further they went.

"Draco," Severus had a hand on his shoulder. "I can take him."

"No," Draco pulled Harry closer to his chest. "You heard Gwenn. The Dark could take him."

"I am stronger than you, Draco."

"Not in this." He didn't have time to battle with the Potions Master. "Father?" They'd come to the end of the Path. Draco could feel the presence of the Dark begin to grow.

"Yes?" Lucius was at his side.

"Take hold of my other shoulder." The older blond didn't question him. Together, with the two wizards anchoring his body, Draco closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

_ I need to find the cave_, he let his mind reach out. The Dark was beginning to stir around them. He could hear the adults' breath quicken. He knew he didn't have much time.

_ The cave, the cave, the cave_, the thought chanted through his mind. _The cave with the fire. The man Homer. Pythia and her chair of white stone. The Cave_. It didn't have a name. Or did it? His eyes opened at the thought. He stared into a rolling wave of the Dark, headed their way. Their time was up.

"Delphi," he said. The Door flared up before them. The adults dragged him through before he could blink.

The Dark washed over the empty space, the presence of the Dreamer lost to it.

End Chapter 14


	15. Chapter 15: The Temple at Delphi

Chapter Fifteen: The Temple at Delphi

When the news about the massacre came, it came with a bang and a bellow and a roar that all but ripped Diagon Alley in two.

People ran through the streets, proclaiming rumor after rumor. The deaths of the entire wizarding village were enough to send most people to fits. It was the manner of their deaths that caused the panic.

Knockturn Alley was a shady place, full of dirt and even more questionable people. When they had first arrived, Hermione had turned to Tom with a wild look and an exclamation on her lips.

"Hush now, Ms. Hermione," Tom had stopped her before she could start. "You want a fight? Well, this is the place where the Ministry sends the people who they don't like. You'll not find better fighters anywhere. Come now. It's not far."

They'd wound their way into Knockturn Alley. It was far deeper than Hermione had first thought. Several other streets branched off from it. The further they went, the less dirt and grime became apparent. It had bothered Hermione to no end.

"Tom?" She'd stopped him at a crossroads. "Where _are_ we? And why's it so different?"

The barkeep had drawn her aside, so they were half hidden by a doorway. "It's Knockturn Alley, Hermione. It's the place where the rest of the wizarding world throws the things they don't want to think about. It's not at all nasty, really. They keep the area nearest Diagon Alley like that to ward off the curious."

"I don't understand."

A pitying expression had passed across his face. "I know you don't, Ms. Ganger. I'll explain as we go. But we can't stay in one place too long. There _are_ dangerous types about." With that he'd taken her hand and led her away, talking as they went.

Brothels were down Lavender Alley, he'd told her. Apothecary Place was where all manner of Dark potions and other things were sold. To her surprise, not all of the shops specialized in the illegal. Some, she found, were focused on the diseases that the wizarding world would not lower itself to consider. Potions for mental problems. Potions for illnesses that had no magical cure. Allergies, even, she'd found, were suspect in a world which if it did not appear perfect, then it must be deviant.

At last, Tom had led her down a small path that wound its way between two tall buildings. It was dank, dark and more than a little scary. Hermione had held tight to his hand, all the way to the unmarked door set into the brick wall.

He'd rapped a number of times; if it was a code, then she had missed it. The query was met by the door flinging itself open and a small man all but throwing himself at Tom.

"Tommy!" The man broke the hold Hermione had on the barkeep's hand. "Tommy we haven't seen you in ages!"

Tom thumped the small man on the back and then pried him away. "Alex, I want to introduce you to someone."

As they parted, Hermione got a better look at the man. He was small, slight and had a disturbingly feminine air. His hair was brown, but pulled back by a black headband. He had been wearing make up, Hermione had realized with a start.

Alex turned to look at her. The open, friendly expression had wiped itself clean. "Another lost soul?" He'd asked.

"Not quite," Tom had sighed. "Look, can we come inside? I'll explain everything."

That was how Hermione found herself in a room full of people her parents would have had a coronary about, if they'd known.

The group Tom had introduced her to had no name. It was harder to track that way, she'd been told. They were almost all exiles from the wizarding world, for one reason or the other. Alex was banned for his desire to dress in female clothing. The others had more serious crimes to their name.

Carey was a Potions Mistress. She ran one of the shops in Apothecary Place. Her drug use had her expelled from Hogwarts in her fifth year. She'd found her way to Knockturn Alley and had never left. Mark was the owner of a shop that dabbled in muggle technology mixed with wizarding charms. Matthew ran a secondhand clothing shop, while his wife, Shelly, ran a small café out of the deteriorating kitchen in the back of the building. The last person Hermione was introduced to was Colin, and what Colin did, was or was affiliated to, she didn't know. But he was clearly the head of the small group Tom had brought her to, and he…well. She was afraid of him the most.

Tom had stayed long enough to explain Hermione's wish to the group. Then he'd been whisked out the door by a grinning Alex, leaving her alone with the small crowd.

Carey leaned forward, her cup held loose in her hands. "So you're a Hogwarts brat, then?" Hermione thought she would have been a pretty woman, if she hadn't had half a dozen bits of metal in each ear and enough make up on to make even Susan Bones blanch.

"Yes," she rubbed her palms on her jeans and tried not to blush.

"What House?"

"Gryffindor."

They all exchanged glances. "The House that kicked Potter out."

Hermione winced. "Yes," she admitted.

"You have any part in that?"

She drew in a long breath. "Yes. I started the petition. I was the reason they kicked him out."

Colin's eyes narrowed. He was the only one of them standing. "That's pretty rotten of you," he said.

"More than rotten," she met his eyes. "It was horrid, stupid and unforgivable."

Something in his eyes changed. "And yet you're here. Trying to clear his name."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because."

"We need more than that."

Hermione dropped her gaze for a moment. She set her jaw and looked up. "I won't betray him again. Harry's a good person. He's the best. He did everything to save us. The whole world's gone crazy, and I'll be damned if I let them tear him down because they're all too afraid to accept change."

"You just might be damned," Colin pushed off the wall he was leaning against. "You just might be exiled, thrown from the wizarding world like a piece of trash. Could you stand that, kid? Could you stand being ripped from the only thing you've been working for your entire life?"

Her chin went up. "I'm muggleborn," she narrowed her eyes at him. "I got my letter at eleven. I've worked hard these last few years to fit in, to make this world mine. But I won't let it destroy me. I can live in the muggle world if I have to. I don't see why I should. This is just as much as my home as there."

"And if they throw you out?"

"They'll have to do better than a piece of paper to make me leave."

"Gryffindors," Carey muttered, leaning back. "Merlin help us."

The hint of a smile curled Colin's lips. It made his expression less fearful. "You might just fit in, Missy."

"My name's Hermione."

"Naw," he tilted his head to one side. "I like Missy more."

"Well that's too bad," she retorted. "It's Hermione. I quite like my name and I'm keeping it."

"Well, she'll fit in for sure," Mark snorted. He slapped his leg and stood. "I'm sure you have some questions for us, eh?" He shot Colin a look. Hermione couldn't read what went on between them.

"Well, yes…" She frowned at them. "What is it, exactly, that you all do?"

Colin moved to take Mark's seat. "Well, we're the ones who like to start rumors in Diagon Alley," he began.

Hermione felt her nails dig into her legs. "Did you start any about Harry?" It was her turn to go on the offensive.

Colin's eyebrow rose. "Why no, but thanks for the vote of confidence. We're currently trying to get the preachers out of their corners. Haven't had much luck there. There's some talk of a temple to all gods being put up near Gringotts', but whether it's gotten past the talk stage, none of us know."

"What else?"

"What else, what?"

"What else do you do? Do you contact people in the muggle world? Tom said you're interested in having a working relationship with people who can't do magic. To integrate everything. Do you work on that as well?"

A second round of glances went through the group. "Well, yes and no."

"Yes and no?"

Collin's laugh held no mirth. "It's hard to get a foothold in a place that doesn't believe you."

"There's plenty of people in the muggle world who would love to believe you."

"Yes, but they're all considered crackpots by the rest of the populace."

Hermione shrugged. "The Christians were considered crackpots by the Romans. Now look at the world."

Carey's snort was covered by a grubby hand. "I think you'll fit in fine." She rose and stretched, several vertebra popping as she cracked her back. "Look, Herm, we have a lot of ideas. We've all been trying to do what we can, when we can. But we didn't come together as a group till a few years ago. As much as Colin hates to admit it, we're stuck in a rut. So here we are. Full of ideas, but with no where to put them."

Colin shot her a look. "We have plans," he began.

Carey shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Another thing he won't tell you, Herm, is that Tom was the one who got us all together. He was the last of some group that tried to change the world. He's our eyes in Diagon Alley. He's the one who knew we were trying to change things again. The rest of us," her thumb jerk encompassed the room, "none of us are over thirty. None of us were old enough to really fight in the first war against Voldemort. But we all lived through it, and the aftermath." Her mouth thinned down into an unhappy line. "All of us know what happens next. And we don't want that to happen this time. You hear me?"

"I hear you," Hermione said.

"If you're done spilling our secrets," Colin snapped. He was stopped by the door flying open and Alex rushing in.

"Something's happened!" Alex was sopping wet. "There's been another attack! People are rioting in Diagon Alley!"

Hermione had little time to react. The group around her went to work. Before she knew it, she had a ratty robe thrown over her cloths and a cap over her hair. Then she was out the door, following the line of Colin's broad back, heading for the roaring chaos that had been Diagon Alley.

_Of all the damn Gryffindor things to do, Hermione_, her mind whispered. But then they were in the fray, and there was no more time for thinking.

qpqpqpqp

The cave appeared before them. Draco was all but driven to his knees from the force of their arrival. The flickering entrance bade them welcome. Draco hoped the sentiment would be echoed by the inhabitants inside.

The two adults were hot on his heels as he entered. Pythia was standing near the hearth, her arms wrapped around her middle as they walked in.

"Draco?" Her expression was shocked. "How did you get here? What is…" Her gaze traveled to the bundle in his arms. "Oh, Zeus," she swore and hurried to his side.

Homer appeared from the back of the cave, a dead goat slung over his shoulder. He took one look at Draco and dropped the carcass with a shrug. Lucius and Severus had their wands out, but held tight at their sides.

"He said he was taken by the Dark," Draco let Pythia help him to a curtained off portion of the cave. Beyond it was a cozy living space. A low Roman style couch lay in front of a small fireplace. He laid Harry down on it.

"What happened to you," Pythia tugged at his robe.

"I _said_," he began.

"I heard that part. You're all bloody. Tell me from the beginning."

Draco drew in a breath. He related to her all that had happened since they had seen her last. Pythia frowned when he mentioned the goddess Gwenn, but other than that, stayed silent.

"Then this happened," Draco finished. "I still didn't know how to get to you. So we went to Gwenn. She helped us."

"Good, good." Pythia stroked Harry's forehead. Her glance went beyond them to the two men standing with their backs to the far wall. "And them?"

Draco followed her gaze. "That's my father and that's Severus. They weren't going to let me come alone. I couldn't have gotten here without them."

She set her mouth in an unhappy line, but said nothing. "Draco, what happened tonight was…"

"Gah."

They all jumped at the sound of Harry's voice. The blond forgot everything else in the room, and focused on the boy in front of him.

"Harry?" He grabbed one of the limp hands. "Harry, wake up."

A green eye cracked open. "What happened?" He wrinkled his nose.

"We're with Pythia," Draco tightened his hold. "We made it through the Dark. Everything's going to be fine."

Harry's gaze moved to Pythia. She let out a soft sigh. "You boys are certainly full of surprises," she said.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," her smile was kind. "You sleep for now. We'll get the others fed and then we'll figure out what has happened."

"But," Harry surged up. "The people!"

"What people?" She went still.

"The people on the beach!" Harry turned to Draco. "They're dead! They're all dead!"

His shouting brought the adults into the room. Snape moved past the curtain, stopping at the edge of the low bed.

"I couldn't do anything!" Harry was furious. He was terrified. He realized his hands were shaking and tried to stop it. "The Dark – it just _took_ me, but I couldn't do a thing to stop it!"

"Harry," Pythia put a hand over his. "Stop. Start from the beginning."

Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment and let it out. He opened his eyes and told the story from start to finish. Pythia's eyes were narrowed slits as he finished.

"This…" She looked past them. She pushed to her feet and moved to the far side of the room. What Harry had thought was shadow turned out to be another curtain. She pulled it aside. The abyss gaped back at them.

Harry recoiled. A hand found his shoulder, even as Draco moved close to his side. Even Lucius was near them, his hand tight around the wand he had never put away.

"Pythia!" Homer moved forward.

"Stop." She held up a hand. Her head tilted to one side. A shudder wracked her body. "The Dark is moving," she murmured.

"What?"

She turned, but left the curtain open. "Do you see, Harry?" Her eyes studied his face. He took a gulping breath and looked past her.

The abyss was…_writhing_, it was the only word he could use to describe it. Flashes of light exploded in the distance, some large as fireworks, some as small as pinpricks. It was dizzying. It was confusing. He heard the others turn away, but he could not draw his gaze from the sight.

"This is very grave," Pythia's lips moved in a near-silent whisper. "The abyss has ever been a stable place – full of what might come, what will come, but never both at the same time." Her gaze bore into Harry. "Do you understand?"

"Something's changing that." He licked dry lips. "Something powerful enough to change the future."

"And the past."

"The past?" He stared at her.

She swept her gaze back to the abyss. "Do you see?" Her hand hovered in front of the oily blackness. "The rope buckles. The edges are fraying. If it unravels…"

"Then everything will end." Draco was the one to say it.

"Yes, and no. Everything that has been will end. A new past and a new future will be reshaped out of this darkness." She shivered. "I cannot see it. I cannot see how it will end."

Harry pushed himself to his feet. Draco tried to stop him, but he shook the hand away. He had to find the strength to stand. He _had_ to. There was no time to be weak. No time to falter. He stepped to Pythia's side and peered into the abyss.

He didn't see the rope she spoke of. To him, the past and future were like a long corridor that ran on forever, with doors that opened on either side. The past was shut, the doors locked save for those who had the key. The future doors were open, some shining with pale white light, others darker. Some streamed with colors he had no name for.

"I see," he said. He could feel tremors running the length of his frame. He pushed the urge to collapse aside. He had to be strong. He _had_ to.

"Harry?" Draco spoke from behind him.

"We have to go back," he answered. He met Pythia's glance. "We have to make sure the – whatever it is – doesn't destroy the past. Or the future. Or now."

She reached out and touched his hair. "You are a smart, brave boy." Her eyes were shadowed with something he could not name. "Be careful," she leaned close, her breath washing across his cheeks. "Things are unsettled. The Dark does not know what to do. I see a crow flying in a storm, searching for a scent she cannot name. I see you," Pythia's mouth twisted. "Be careful, Harry. Things move too fast for me to predict."

"I will," he promised. He turned to the others. "We have to go. We have to go _now_."

"Now, Harry?" Draco reached out and drew him close.

He curled cold fists into the blond's shirt. "Now," he said, meeting Severus' gaze over Draco's shoulder. "It's now or never. Something is happening. We have to go."

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Diagon Alley was awash with confusion. Hermione tried to stay close to the others as they charged into the fray. People were screaming and spells were being fired off from all sides. She could hear glass shattering. Somewhere in the crowd a woman was shrieking, something about the Day of Reckoning and how they all had to repent, repent or die.

Something smashed into her side. A man pointed a wand into her face, a wide terrible grin stretching his mouth. "For the glory –," he got out. Then Colin smashed a board over his head and the man went limp.

Hermione staggered free. "Why did you do that!"

"Come on!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the crowd. Two men crashed into a wall in front of them, grappling with each other. Blood ran from a dozen wounds. Sirens started to blare, their high-pitched tone ringing in Hermione's ears.

"What's happening?" She tried to shout over the din.

"Someone cursed a preacher," Colin shouted back. "A fight broke out. Then this."

"How do you know?"

"Use your eyes, wench!"

She glared at his back, but tried to see what he saw. The muggleborn crowd that had moved into Diagon Alley had left the trappings of wizarding society. Their muggle clothes stood out from in the crowd. They were doing the most of the attacking. Spells were being flung from either side. She ducked a nasty slashing hex, her wand falling into her hand with disturbing ease.

Colin pulled his own wand and began to fire spells into the crowd. She recognized the calming charm he was using. She took up a stance next to him and fired off her own. She could hit one person at a time and that was all. With the number of people in the crowd, it would take them hours to calm them all.

"Isn't there a better spell than this?" She pushed him out of the way as spells were aimed in their direction.

"Do you know any?"

She shook her head, pushing her hair out of her eyes. They had attracted some of the riot's attention. The wild eyes stared at them. She clamped a hand over his arm. "Colin," she began.

"Come on!" They took off. A roar from behind them meant the mob had decided to give chase. He dragged her down the alley, heading for Gringotts.

"Where are we going?"

"The bank!"

"But why?"

"Shut up and run!"

She did as he asked. Heat prickled down the length of her back. She stopped and pulled them right, the spell missing them by inches.

"Hermione!" She turned at the shout. Seamus and Sasha were standing behind a barricade. She dug in her feet and tried to bring Colin towards them.

"What are you doing?" The man shouted in her face.

"They're friends!"

"Not to me!" He broke from her hold. "You're either with them, or with us. Pick!"

She gazed back at the waving sixth years. She made her decision. She grabbed Colin's arm again. "Go!" She told him. "Just…go!"

She thought she heard Seamus shout again, but the blood pounding in her ears drowned most everything out. Together, she and Colin led the mob on a merry chase around the length of the goblin bank. Several curses sped by their heads. At one point a blasting curse had hit the wall in front of them, sending bricks scattering into their path. She'd taken a blow to the shoulder. The wound ached, but she pushed the thought aside. She had to keep up. She had to run. The mob was too close behind them to stop now.

When the Unspeakables began to pour from the alleys, Hermione let out a breath of relief. But it soon changed to horror as the hard-faced men and women began to fire lethal spells into the mob, taking down swaths of maddening witches and wizards at a time.

"What are they doing!" She tried to stop Colin.

"Their damned bloody jobs!" He yanked her into to Flourish and Blotts, leaving the mob behind.

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Seamus almost made it past the barricade before Sasha stopped him. "What are you doing?" Her shout rang in his ear.

"But Hermione –!"

"She ran the other way! There's no way you can stop her, not with the mob…get down!" She pushed him to the ground as a spell spun over their heads, colliding with the wall in a shower of sparks.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on?" Seamus peeked over the edge of the barricade.

Then the Unspeakables arrived. Their spells felled great swaths of people, most falling to the ground with shrieks of agony. Seamus started, his hands going tight around the top of the turned over table they were hiding behind.

"They're cursing them."

"Yes," Sasha's voice shook. "It's what they do."

He swung around to stare at her. "But they're supposed to _help_ people, not hurt them!"

"So people want to believe." She pulled him back. "They're the Unspeakables. They're not Aurors, Seamus. They are laws unto themselves."

As the roar of the mob disappeared around the corner, Seamus peeked out again. The arriving witches and wizards were ignoring the fallen on the ground. Instead, they were going to each of the hidden pockets of people. He saw one witch point her wand and cast. A shout rose up, then cut off in mid-cry.

"Sasha, we have to go." He gripped her arm.

"What?"

"I think they're Obliviating people."

Her shaky gasp was all the answer he needed.

Together, they eased back though the pocket of people who had gathered with them behind the tables. The ice cream store doors were shattered, but open. They slid inside, hugging the long counter until they found the swing door that led into the back. Seamus pushed Sasha ahead of him, even as the Unspeakables approached the small group of people that were gathered in their former hiding spot.

"_Go_, Sasha."

"The door's stuck!"

He pushed in next to her, putting his shoulder to the door. It creaked, gave an inch and stopped. A wand poked out at them. "Leave us alone!" A woman's voice said.

"There's Unspeakables out here!"

"I know! Go away!"

"We can't! They'll see us in a minute!"

The door gave way under his pressure. Hands drew them inside. A host of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff students stared back at them. He thought he heard Sasha snort. "Thanks," he said.

"Go," the woman who spoke pushed at him. "They won't Obliviate us. But they will if they see you."

"Us, why?"

"Gryffindors and Slytherins have always been the troublemakers." The woman pushed at them. "Go! There's a back door that leads out to Clothmaker's Alley. Slip into London through the far gate. Just go!"

He grabbed Sasha's hand, thanked the woman, and fled.

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When Rufus appeared on the Ministry steps, he was in good company. Fudge, along with several members of the Wizengamot, were huddled together there. The head of the Unspeakable's Department, a one Mr. Torrit, was shouting down the Minister as they argued over the use of the Unspeakables on the mob.

"…Just isn't done!" Fudge's cry rent the air.

Rufus scanned the area. He could see Unspeakables cleaning up the damage, going from group to group, casting their spells to calm the crowd and – yes, there, an Obliviate. There was another crowd growing at the far end of the Alley, pressed tight against the brick walls. They were inching closer as the Unspeakables worked.

Rufus flicked his wand, sending his voice out over the alley. "Please keep calm," he intoned. It cut off the argument behind him. "The Unspeakables have done a commendable job in calming the mob. Thank you, but your services are no longer needed. Aurors shall be arriving shortly to take your statements. Again, please keep calm."

"You can't do that!" Mr. Torrit grabbed his arm and spun him around. Rufus pulled away.

"Yes, I can. The Unspeakables have no right to Obliviate people against their will, especially when they might be prime witnesses to what happened here today."

"It's apparent to see what happened here today! The hysteria has gotten out of control!" Torrit drew himself to his full height. "It is the Unspeakable's job to calm the populace when they are out of control. The Aurors have no say in this, Scrimgeour."

"True, the Aurors may have no say in your business, but as the potential Minister of Magic of Britain, it _is_ my job to make sure you are not abusing your powers."

Fudge began to sputter. The crowd that had been inching closer watched on with wide eyes.

"You can't just _declare_ it like that!"

"I can and I have," Rufus kept the Sonorous charm fixed on the alley. "It is my belief that the Ministry has become too dependent on the Unspeakables and their charms. We cannot have a free and equal society if that same society lives in fear of the Ministry's laws and view of silence over sense. I will _not_ have this day go down in the Black Book because of some childish fear that it will make you look _bad_ Minister Fudge. I won't have it!"

A cheer went up in the crowd behind him. Torrit's eyes were narrowed and thin lines had appeared around his mouth. "You keep this up," Torrit said. "They'll riot again. And next time the Unspeakables will just let them go on."

"Better to be calmed by the Aurors than taken down by power mad wizards who can't tell an enemy from a civilian," Rufus shot back. "Now call them off!"

The Unspeakables had paused when Rufus' voice first rang out over the crowd. They did not need a signal from their leader to start heading back towards the steps. The crowd that had formed was more than enough of a threat to force them back.

"You will regret this," Torrit said.

Before Rufus could retort, the crack of a wizard apparating in drew stares. The Unspeakable that Rufus had come to blows with at the beach stood below them, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild.

"It's started!" He cried. "Potter has let loose the devil on us! He's slaughtered a whole town!"

Rufus cursed all the gods of inappropriate timing. The crowd, which had been on his side, reeled back. Whispers began to run the length of the alley.

"Please!" He tried to calm them. "This is not true! Yes, there was a massacre," he cursed the Unspeakable in his mind. "But we have yet to find the perpetrator. Do _not_ panic…"

"I told you so," Torrit breathed near his ear. "Welcome to the world of the people's freedom."

Rufus felt his right hand tighten into a fist. He would _not_ punch the man in full view of his first speaking crowd. "Please," he pushed out between clenched teeth. "The Aurors are working on finding suspects as we speak. Do _not_ place the blame before we have had a chance to investigate…"

"It's all because of Potter!" A voice from the crowd shouted. "He's gone Dark! A new Dark lord! Just like the preachers were saying!"

"Shut it! He is not!"

"There is evil loose in the world again!"

"There's nothing to say that he didn't do this on purpose!"

The Unspeakable stepped forward. "I have seen it with my own eyes! A man said he saw a boy and a crow in the sky as the attack fell!"

"That's it," he stunned the man. The crowd reacted. Shouts rang out. Rufus tried to calm the people, but they would not listen. Another mob was fast in the making.

"Poor, poor Mr. Scrimgeour," Torrit said as he walked away. "Your mess, you clean it up." The Unspeakables followed after him, taking with them the man Rufus had felled.

Fudge and the members of the Wizengamot ran for the safety of the Ministry. Rufus was alone for one long moment, the sole target of a panicked mob's gaze.

"Enough!" A new voice rang out. A man pushed his way to the front of the crowd, climbing the steps to stand next to Rufus. "Enough! Do we want the Unspeakables back? Do we want Fudge hiding behind the skirts of the Aurors? No!" Several others echoed him. "Scrimgeour has given us the truth! I'm an Auror! I was there, at the massacre on Brighton beach! There is nothing there to say Potter or any of his lot have done this!"

"Then who did?" A voice shouted.

"That is why we are the Aurors," the man roared back. "We investigate. We find the people who have committed these crimes and _then_ we bring them to trail. _That_ is our way! Not to attack first and riot!"

"But if Potter hadn't – !"

"Potter has nothing to do with this!"

"Yes, he does!"

"No, he doesn't!"

Rufus gripped the man's shoulder. "Thank you, Auror Gest. But I think what we need now is the reserves."

"Sir?"

"We need the people to start doing something productive. We need them to focus on who started the first riot, not on –," but he was cut off as someone fired a curse into the crowd. It came from behind them, narrowly missing Rufus' head. He spun around, looking for his attacker. A shadow disappeared into a far doorway. It could have been anyone. It could have been a random attack. But from the roar of the people in the street, Rufus had one guess as to what the contents of that spell had been.

A new mob formed before his eyes, all of them intent on one person. Harry Potter.

End Chapter Fifteen


	16. Chapter 16: A Hasty Relocation

Chapter Sixteen: A Hasty Relocation

When Draco, Harry, Severus and Lucius stepped through the Door from the Otherworld, the first thing they heard were the Manor alarms.

"What's going on?" Harry fell to the ground, back arching as his stomach did its best to crawl up his throat and out his mouth.

Draco knelt next to Harry. "Father? Severus?"

"Here," the Potions Master tried to help the boy get a vial of green liquid down Harry's throat. Lucius was gone from the room too fast for Harry to track him.

"What…" He wheezed. "What's going on?"

"There's an attack," Draco's tone was full of steel and ice. "There's an attack on the gates. The Manor's wards are holding it off for now."

"But…"

The house shuddered. Draco's hands clamped down on Harry's shoulders. "This should not be possible!" He tried to pick Harry up. "We have to go!"

"You hold it right there!" Sirius Black threw back the door to the room. His eyes and hair were wild. Magic was thick in the air around him. "I _never_ should have left Harry with you for so long! Give me back my godson or I'll skin you all alive!"

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When the crowd went wild, Rufus had had little time to plan. The location of Potter's muggle relatives was secret – but he didn't know for how long. He needed to get the boy out of the Malfoy's hold, preferably before the mob could decide that having Harry in the Malfoy presence was proof enough of his rising status as a new Dark Lord.

What he needed was Potter, in the hands of his loving godfather, the beloved Sirius Black. What he needed was a happy picture of Gryffindors all together – never mind the fact that Potter and the new Black girl had been resorted to Slytherin. No, what he needed at that moment was the _image_ of respectability that would soothe the ruffled feathers of the wizarding world long enough for him to find the reigns of the runaway Thestral before it could fly them all headlong into another storm of hysteria.

With that thought in mind, he grabbed the nearest men he could find and disappariated away. He needed to speak to Black _now_. They would have one chance of removing Potter from Malfoy Manor and he needed the boy's guardian to be there with them. It was their only chance to put the brakes on what could be a very ugly situation.

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"Where are we going?"

Seamus did not stop at Sasha's shout. He kept one hand clamped around her wrist as they darted through the crowd. The riot had spread to the side streets of Diagon Alley. Men and women dressed in tattered, dirty clothing lurked in the shadows, their eyes wide and wild as they watched the chaos. Seamus put them all from his mind as he pushed past the people he could not dodge. He had only one purpose in mind – to get them both out of the Alley alive.

"Here," he tugged her to the right, past a small knot of people who were waving their arms and yelling at the top of their lungs to be heard. They were not speaking English. Seamus thought it might be French, but he wasn't sure. The door under the awning was shut fast. He banged on it, his fist making the frame rattle and the glass shake.

"Seamus, why are we…"

"It's me! Let me in!" He hollered over Sasha's question.

The door was yanked open, a hand fisted itself in his collar. They were both dragged into the safety of Flourish and Blotts.

The shop was half full of people. Seamus drew Sasha in past the wall of large men who stood near the door. Almost all of them had their wands out. Piles of tomes were set against the windows and the side door, holding them shut against any who would dare enter.

"What are we doing here?" Sasha pulled at his hand.

"I work here," Seamus pushed his bangs out of his eyes with an exhausted sigh. He found a pair of rickety chairs empty and plopped down in one.

Sasha stayed standing. "You…what?"

"I work here."

"…You do?"

"Of course I do."

"But…" A line appeared between her brows. "I don't understand. I thought you went home to Ireland during your holidays."

"I do. But every summer I work." He patted the chair next to him. "Sit down. I think we'll be here awhile."

Sasha frowned at the chair, but sat, smoothing her skirt under her legs with a nervous pass of her hands. Her eyes flicked around the store, picking out the men and women huddled in the far corners of the stacks.

"Why?" She turned to him. "Why work during the summer?"

He swallowed the dry laugh that wanted to escape. "Not everyone has enough money for the Hogwarts tuition."

It was the wrong thing to say, he saw that immediately. "You…" A muscle in her jaw tensed.

"Look," He caught her hand before she could explode. "I like working during the summer. Been doing it since I was little, with my family and cousins. It's almost habit. This year I wanted to be closer to Hogwarts and…other things," his grin was weak. The ire in her eyes faded by degrees.

"Hogwarts doesn't have a _tuition_," she said after a moment.

"Yes, actually it does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, it doesn't!"

"It does…if you're not from an old family."

"It…what?"

He shrugged and let go of her hand with a final squeeze. "I hear a lot of old families have contracts with the school, which is how the Weasleys and the rest get in every year. Some muggle-born get scholarships, which is why Hermione is bats about keeping her grades up. It's not something we talk about – it's not something _anyone_ talks about, but there you go."

Sasha stared at him for a long moment. "Interesting," was all she said. She settled back into her chair. "So you work here?"

"Yes."

"Lucky you."

"I like it. I get a discount on my books as well."

"_Very_ lucky you."

He settled his arm onto the back of the chair, twisting in his seat so he could look at her face. "Embarrassed to know me now?"

Her head swiveled back to him. "What? Don't be daft."

"You seemed upset."

"…I thought your family was…older."

"Oh, _I_ see."

"Seamus."

"No, really, makes perfect sense."

"_Seamus_."

"I'm just teasing."

She let out a short huff of breath. "I am not," she enunciated each word.

He studied the lines of her face. "You are upset," he said.

"Yes and no."

"But not because of the working?"

"You stupid Gryffindor. Of course not."

"Then why?"

"Have you forgotten about the riot outside?"

A particularly loud thump hit the main door to the shop. "No," Seamus said. "I haven't."

Sasha laced her hands together in her lap. "Things are spiraling out of control too fast for this to be normal." Her eyes were on the floor. "Something is causing this."

"Like a spell?" Seamus cocked his head to one side.

"I'm not sure." She sucked in her lower lip between her teeth. "The riot…maybe, but to what purpose? Why all the rumors and the accusations? Why…" She trailed off with a sigh. "It almost feels like it did when the gods woke."

"What do you mean?"

"Unsettled. As though something _more_ was about to happen. But what in Merlin's name can happen now? It's as though…" Her eyes narrowed to slits. A slow turn brought her to face Seamus. "How many books on myths and legends of Great Britain do you have in this shop?"

"Hundreds, I'm sure. Why…" He sat back. "Oh. _Oh_." They rose as one. He took the lead, hustling past huddled co-workers who stared at them with wide eyes. They disappeared around a far corner, into a murky area labeled _Gods and Monsters_. They didn't look back.

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Of all the things Sirius Black had expected Scrimgeour to tell him, the scene that met him at Malfoy Manor blew all of it away.

He'd wanted to laugh at the Head Auror's concerns. He'd wanted to scoff at the idea that the wizarding world was primed to blame anyone for a convenient target for the chaos that had erupted around them. But the rioting surge outside the Manor, plus the description of the panic given to him by Scrimgeour himself, was hammered home when he saw Harry pale and shaking in the foyer of the Malfoy Manor. Healer Fondorn had been right all along.

"I should never let him come here," he spat at the two men flanking the boys. Snape sneered at him – that was what Snivilus always did – and Malfoy's high, bump-nose tilted even further into the air.

"Black," the elder Malfoy began.

"Get away from him!" Sirius stalked forward, one hand wrapping around Harry's upper arm. "He's coming home – with _me_."

"Let him go," the Malfoy brat tried to protest.

A good yank freed his godson – _mine, _mine_ –_ from their sticky grasp. Harry stumbled into his arms, shaking. _What have they _done_ to him_?

"You filthy, lying Slytherins," he managed to growl past the bubble of rage that was stuck in his throat.

"How dare you!"

"Black you have no idea of what you are doing –,"

"Harry –,"

Sirius scooped Harry up into his arms. "None of you are to try and contact him!" He passed the frail body to Remus without a glance. He couldn't look at the boy. Lily's eyes would accuse him and James' ghost would – he closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in through his nose. _Not now, old man. Break down later_.

"Remus, take Harry home."

"But Sirius –,"

"_Remus_."

"He's ill, Sirius."

"Ill from being here, no doubt." A sharp motion of his hand cut whatever Remus was going to say next. "Please, Moony. Just get him home."

The faint pop of Remus disapparating met his request.

"Black, the boy has _information_," Snape began.

"Information? _Information_? That's what you've done to the boy? Starved him to death and – and tortured him until you could play with his mind? I bet you made him try to use that potion again!"

"Black!" Snape thundered – but the threat in his voice was tempered by the raking glance he spared to the Aurors behind Sirius.

"You did!" His wand was trained on the Potion Master's chest. "You forced him to take it again! Haven't you manipulated him enough? Another Dark Potion –,"

"Dark Potion?" Questioned one of the Aurors behind him.

Snape was suddenly in his space, knocking his wand away as he fisted long, thin hands in the collar of his robe. "Of all the stupid, Gryffindor things to spout out," he ground as he tried to manually strangle Sirius with his own shirt.

It took the remaining Aurors to pry them apart. Snape, much to Sirius' satisfaction, was taken away to cool his heels in one of Azkaban's lesser cells for a night to think about his attempt on aggravated assault. The row that the Malfoys put up at the declaration of the git's sentence was music to Sirius' ears.

He stayed long enough to see his childhood enemy taken away by the Aurors, with the Malfoys following seconds after. He was then able to turn his mind towards home and the people waiting for him. Healer Fondorn had contacted him from out of the blue days before, offering his services to Sirius and his new family. Sirius had always trusted the Healer; Fondorn had been one of the few regular Healers that had helped the Black family without needing to be blackmailed into service. Sirius had lost contact with the man for obvious reasons – it was a pure stroke of luck that the man had turned up when he had.

_I don't care what they say, Harry's better off with us._ _He always was. He'll be right as rain in no time. Healer Fondorn will help Harry and Ginny both. It will all work out just fine._ A brilliant smile stretched his face. With a thought, he was gone, leaving before the Malfoy Manor wards could force him out.

He never felt the ominous weight that settled over the house, or saw how the windows to the west went dark and still.

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Remus appeared in the formal foyer of the Black Manor. Harry bucked in his arms, almost falling from his grasp.

"Harry!" He stumbled forward a handful of steps and knelt. The boy rolled onto his stomach and vomited, the weak splash sliding across the antique rugs.

"Mandy! Tandy!" The house elves they had acquired popped into the room. "Help me get Harry up –,"

"No –," the boy gasped. "No – have to have to –,"

"Harry, hush. It's all right. You're fine."

"_No_, have to tell them –,"

"Harry." Remus took up the shivering boy, holding him tight. "It's going to be all right. You don't have to fight anymore. Scrimgeour knows. It's all right."

"He – he –," Harry's teeth were chattering too much for him to speak.

"Remus?" The soft whisper-thunk of Ginny's cane rounded the door. "Harry! Remus!" She hobbled forward at a near run, falling to her knees next to Remus with a full body flinch. "Oh, _Harry_."

The house elves cleared the mess with a flick of their fingers. Soft warm blankets were put next to Remus. He took one and wrapped it around Harry. The shivering eased by inches.

"What _happened_? Scrimgeour said there was a riot – did they do this to Harry? Where's Father?" Ginny took Harry's hand in hers. "It's okay, Harry. Father – Sirius – he'll make everything all right, you'll see."

"I – need…to talk…to Draco."

Remus felt a muscle start to twitch in his jaw. "Not right now, Harry. You're obviously ill. Why they didn't get a Healer for you –,"

"They…did…"

Remus ignored the boy. Whoever the so-called Healer was, was obviously not any good. He cuddled the boy close to his chest and stood.

"Come, let's get you settled and then we'll call Healer Fondorn. Sirius will be home any second. He'll want to make sure you'll be okay."

"But…"

"Harry, stop. Whatever was done to you, we can fix. Just trust us."

"But…"

"Harry, we love you. Please." As they spoke, Remus climbed the stairs to the first floor landing. The room they had chosen for Harry was halfway between Ginny's and the master suite. They'd spent the better part of two days picking out the colors and furnishing for their wayward boy.

The room was bright and airy. It had little curtains to speak of, letting the sunlight flood into the room. Harry winced, moaned and raised his hand to cover his eyes. The windows were open, letting the brisk breeze bring in the heavy summer scents to the room.

The bright yellow and reds of the bed were vivid against the royal blue carpets Sirius had insisted on. The light honey pine furniture was all sharp angles and minimal surface. Ginny had been the deciding vote on the bed. The posters of professional Quidditch teams lined the walls.

"You're home, Harry." Remus settled the boy onto the bed. "You're home." He kept a hand on the boy's shoulder as he rolled to his side, keeping the blanket almost over his face and eyes. Remus beamed down at the boy, pushing aside the worry that threatened to take over. _He's home now_, he breathed a sigh of relief. _Everything will be fine, now. It has to be_.

Ginny stood by them both, hands clasped under her chin, beaming.

qpqpqpqp

The rush from the massacre left both God and Priest flushed from the power. Crom Cruach curled into the hole he had made in his Priest's soul, content with his temporary host. The mortal was too important to take over – not until he had a following again.

They used the long sticks of wood they had taken from their victims. The power in the slim rods appealed to the god. He taught the Priest how to manipulate the trapped energy; it would be enough to get them to the small group of beings that were calling to the god's senses.

They traveled in and out of the Paths, slipping through the chaotic Dark that both welcomed and recoiled from his touch. It did not please the God, but he would deal with it later. The Dark was His domain. It had been once, and it would be again, just like the islands of the west. They were His, they had always been His and always would.

They found the huddled group of mortals in a run down cottage in a wild forest. The God fell upon them with the coiled power of a hundred sacrifices, his breath and being wild and heavy as he went into each and every marked human. They would be the new priests of his Order. They were already marked by evil, but it was a human evil that was gone, it's touch decaying as time passed. He used the wounds in their souls, that dark mark on their flesh to enter and sweep aside their protests and fears.

Crom Cruach wanted a following he could control. The Priest looked on, soaked in blood and other bodily fluids from the mess of humanity on the floor. His God surrounded him, invaded him, filling him with the run off of power that the mortals generated.

The God and the Priest smiled.

End Chapter Sixteen


	17. Chapter 17: Healer Fondorn

A/N: I do not own this series, I do not make money off of this, please don't sue me!

Chapter Seventeen: Healer Fondorn

Severus' jaw ached. One of the Aurors had backhanded him as they appeared on the small island that held Azkaban. Severus had known the man from his previous trials and tribulations with the ever-vigilant wizarding peacekeepers. He wanted to curse them all, preferably with his wand in hand and no Unspeakables near by.

The towering gray structure of Azkaban robbed him of his ire. A shudder worked its way down the length of his spine. Even on the cold and dreary shores, the overwhelming power of the Dementors leaked from the stones. Severus dug in his heels, but to no avail. Two Aurors took him by the arms and dragged him towards the prison.

The temporary cells, Severus knew from bitter memories, were on the upper levels of the prison. They were not patrolled by Dementors – usually. Exceptions were sometimes made, he knew quite well. His stomach tried to rebel; acid and bile burned the back of his throat. Fear washed down his skin, making him shake. His jailors laughed and threw him into the small, gray cell. It was bare, save for the four solid walls and the small window set high near the ceiling.

Severus picked himself up from the floor with a shaking show of courage. _Bloody Gryffindor of me,_ he pressed his lips together to keep back the hysterical laughter that wanted to bubble up. He arranged his robes with trembling hands. He was in the process of brushing down his front when he felt it approach.

It was a feeling he had never been able to forget. In his worst nightmares he was trapped in the prison, forgotten by Albus, by Lucius, by everyone, in the deepest heart of terror. The creeping approach of the Dementors was always the same. First a cold rush, as though the winter wind had found purchase in the middle of a summer's day. It touched the back of his neck, raising the small hairs there.

Then the feeling would creep down his spine. He backed up until his back hit the far wall of the cell. His jailors, it seemed, had not forgotten him at all. Neither had the Dementors. The sheer _presence_ of the creatures flooded the tiny chamber. It was right outside.

The click of the latch pushed the air from his lungs in a low moan. They had never gone so far before. The door swung open on squealing hinges. Severus ground his teeth together, sliding down the wall as the Dementor glided into the cell.

His screams echoed down the corridor for hours.

qpqpqpqp

Sirius paced back and forth in front of the den's quiet fireplace. The soft tick of the clock kept time. The sweating glass of amber-colored alcohol was held in a loose grip at his side.

He saw Ginny rise from her seat. He turned to see Healer Fondorn enter the room. The man had been Sirius' favorite family Healer since he was small.

"What's the news? Is Harry going to be all right?" Sirius wanted to pounce on the man and shake the answers from him.

Healer Fondorn took a seat on one of the stiff formal couches. "I'm afraid the news is both good and bad."

"Good and bad?"

"Whatever they were giving Harry was – well, he's going to be rather ill until it drains from his system."

Sirius grip strangled the cut crystal in his hand. "What. Did. They. Do. To. Him?"

"Now, Sirius, don't jump to conclusions," the Healer had the audacity to say.

"Jump to _conclusions_…"

"From what I could see of the potions in his system, and from what little Harry was able to tell me, he believes that they were trying to help him."

"Help. Him."

"Yes, apparently the Healer they had claimed there was nerve damage –,"

The glass slipped from Sirius' fingers. "What?"

"_But_," Fondorn gave him a sharp glance, "I doubt that there is anything wrong with the boy at all. He's a young wizard and their magic always bounces back against the odds, if they're strong enough."

Sirius saw Ginny give a small start and then turn away. "Did the potions hurt him in any way?"

"Aside from making him ill," the Healer spread his hands. "What worries me are the contents of the potions he was given."

"What do you mean?"

Fondorn rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It is possible – from what you've told me of Mr. Potter's – ah – _escapades_ – that they may have been feeding him an alternative formula."

"What!"

"Now, Mr. Potter denies this with a vengeance. But many of the same ingredients are in the potions I could recognize were in the boy' system."

"I don't understand. The potions you could recognize?" He let Remus guide him down into a chair.

"From what I can piece together, the Malfoys let that Healer of theirs have free reign over the boy. The potions they gave him, for this supposed _nerve damage_ have never been approved. They are all still in the experimental stage of research."

The world went gray around the edges for Sirius. "Is he – I mean…"

"Rest assured, Mr. Black, we're sure to have caught him in time." The Healer's eyes scrunched to slits as a smile split his face.

"How – how do we…fix him?"

"Bed rest for a few days. Then get the boy up and out of the house. Good exercise and the bracing outdoors will put him right in no time."

"And this _nerve damage_? What do we do if…"

The Healer waved it off. Something tight in Sirius' gut relaxed at the man's ease. "I'm sure it's nothing. Boys his age do not get nerve damage, even from a Dark Potion. If he shakes or has difficulties, I imagine they're from the Malfoy's coaching."

"Coaching?"

"They wanted him sick. They fed him potions and fussed over him. Believe me, Mr. Black," the Healer held his gaze as he leaned forward. "Mr. Potter seems almost – I'm afraid to say it, but…"

"He seems what?"

"Attention hungry." The calm gaze kept the nervous panic at bay in Sirius' heart. "I'm telling you this as a family friend, Sirius. The boy – you will have to be vigilant."

"Vigilant for what?"

"The Malfoys may have…fostered a need for attention in the boy." The Healer seemed to be picking his words with care. "From what you could tell me of the boy's history, his constant thrust into the spotlight was reluctant. Which is understandable. But his confinement with the Malfoys may have made him see that in a different light."

"But Harry hates attention!" Ginny exclaimed.

Fondorn spared her a brief glance. "I'm sure he _says_ that."

"But he does! We all know it. Look at how he handled all of last year!"

"And when he defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, all his reasons to hate being pushed into the spotlight went away," the Healer retorted. "The boy was primed, every year, to expect something disastrous. The Malfoys have filled that idea in his head with this _nerve damage_ nonsense."

Sirius balled his hands into fists. "So what do we do?"

"It is imperative that you do not give into the boy's ideas that he is some sort of lynch-pin in every evil plot in the wizarding world," Fondorn held Sirius' gaze. "He needs to be broken of that thought pattern."

"Broken?" Remus stirred at Sirius' side.

"He needs to be of healthy thoughts to better his body, Mr. Lupin." Sirius felt a thrum of tension go through his lover. He patted a bony knee.

"He'll be fine," he told them all. "If all he needs is some positive encouragement, well, then that's what we'll do. We all love Harry and if this is what you recommend…"

"I do."

"Well, then we'll do it. Right, Remus?" He turned to Moony. The tension was still tight in the werewolf's body. He caught the pale amber eyes with his own. It took a long handful of seconds, but Remus nodded back.

"Okay. Okay then." Sirius let out a long breath. Healer Fondorn beamed at him. "We can do this. We're Gryffindors. This'll be a snap."

qpqp

"It's a what?" Harry stared at the potion in his hand.

"A Pepper-Up potion!" Sirius was perched at the edge of his – very bright – bed.

Harry weighed the vial in his hand. "You…want me to take a Pepper-Up potion?"

"Yes."

"But Sirius, I have to –,"

"Ah, ah, ah." The animagus waggled a finger at him. "Potion first!"

The world was still hazy at the edges of Harry's vision. His time with Sirius' Healer was murky at best. He remembered retching a few times and bony hands prodding at his sides, but little else.

"But –,"

"Potion, young man." Harry blinked at the stern note in his godfather's voice. _Fine_, the peevish voice in his head snapped. _I'll take the damn thing and _then_ he can listen_.

He forced the liquid down his throat. It collided with his empty stomach and made it lurch.

"Keep it down, now." Sirius smiled at him, the skin around the older man's eyes folding into faint crow's feet. There was such warmth in the man's tone. It soothed some scared part of Harry's heart. His godfather was here. Everything would be all right now.

Once he could speak without vomiting, he handed the vial back to the older man. "Sirius," he began. "I have to tell you some things."

"Yes, I'm sure you do." Sirius set the vial down on the bedside table.

"I – while I was at the Malfoys – well, even before then – some stuff happened."

"Stuff, Harry?"

"I…I saw some things. You know," he gestured vaguely at his head. He still felt half a fool saying these things out loud.

"Did you?" His godfather was taking it all remarkably well.

"Yeah," Harry took a deep breath. "I – when I got to the Malfoys – I, well, there were problems, but then I started having visions again…"

"Ah," Sirius nodded. "Right when they started treating you for this nerve damage stuff."

"Yes – no, actually it started when the magic came –,"

"The magic came? You didn't say that before."

His godfather was being _too_ calm. "Professor Snape and the Malfoys said that at sixteen a wizard's power had a – a rite of passage or something. But mine came later –,"

"Harry," Sirius reached out and took his hand. "The Potter family renounced all claim on that ritual. It couldn't have happened to you."

"Huh?"

Sirius frowned. "Well, I think the Potters renounced the claim. Either that or you were to renounce it when you started school –,"

"Huh?"

"But you couldn't have known about it anyway." Sirius' free hand waved it away. "Besides, it has to happen at your birth hour. It never happens later."

"But the Morrigan said…"

"And now the Morrigan has arrived?"

"Sirius, listen to me!" The world wobbled on its axis. He eased back down onto his pillows, clutching at his head. "That wasn't a Pepper-Up potion," he managed to whisper.

"No, Harry." Sirius helped him back down.

"But…"

"Harry," Sirius ran a warm hand over Harry's forehead. "You need to rest. Rest and sleep."

"But…"

"You're confused and I know the Malfoys filled your head with a lot of stuff." The animagus kept his voice to a low murmur. "I know they told you that you had to be important. That you had to be the center of everything. But all of that is over now, Harry. The bad guy is dead. We've won. It's time to be a regular boy."

"But…" His tongue felt heavy inside his mouth. His mind flailed at the lethargy that swept through his bones. "But the…visions…Pythia…I have to…tell you…what I saw…"

"It's all lies, Harry. You didn't see anything. Your bond with Voldemort is gone." Sirius tucked the disgustingly bright comforter up to his chin. "Sleep, Harry. You'll understand it all soon enough. You just need to rest now."

"But…" But Harry's eyes slipped shut against their own volition. Sleep clamed him as Sirius' voice chased him down into dreams filled with evil adults and poison tea parties he had to sit through.

Harry's rest was anything but peaceful.

qpqpqpqp

Draco wanted to curse something. He wanted to smash something. He wanted…He closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly. He wanted a lot of things and none of them were his to grasp and he _hated_ it.

It had been over a day since the Aurors had taken Severus from them. Since Black had taken Harry from them. Since the Ministry had taken the Manor's wards from them, since the riots had smashed his grandmother's hothouse and taken that sanctuary from him, since…

Draco's nails cut bloody half-moons into the palms of his hands. They had not slept since everything had happened; Draco was running on pure stubbornness and several Pepper-Up potions. His father, he knew, was running on rage and that alone.

Lucius Malfoy was a sight to behold. His blond hair was pulled back in a tail at the base of his neck. His normally ornate robes were abandoned for dire black. They were dueling robes, with short sleeves and easy access to his wand. Draco had followed his father's lead. The Aurors had brushed them off the day before. Now with their intent clear – and their host of lawyers to accompany them – they were being treated with the respect they _should_ have been given the first time they arrived.

Draco hated Azkaban. He had never been there, had never wanted to go near the dreaded place, but his second father was more important than fear, more important than _anything_ and he wasn't going to let the man down.

Lucius was handling the Aurors in charge of the prison. Draco was there to watch and learn. The older blond was rigid with tension; both of the adults had spent time in prison at one point. Draco hadn't known how much it still affected his father. He hoped Severus was holding up against the strain.

"You will release him _now_." Lucius' snarl echoed in the corridor. They had started in the main office of the prison, until the man had walked away from them. Lucius had not let that deter them. They followed the man deeper into the gray building, even as the elder Malfoy began to fidget. It was a sight Draco hoped never to see again.

"Mr. Malfoy," the man had a particularly nasal quality to his voice. "The paperwork on Mr. Snape –,"

"_Professor_ Snape."

"On Mr. Snape has not come through. There is no way to release a prisoner without the correct paperwork."

"And my lawyers say otherwise."

The man in charge, Auror Smithe, stopped and turned to face them. His thinning hair was combed over a large, wrinkled forehead. The grating smile revealed yellowing teeth. "Your lawyers can take their objections to the correct offices. You have no authority here, Mr. Malfoy. Leave, before we're forced to…" The smile grew on the man's face. "Before we're forced to incarcerate both you _and_ your son. It would be unfortunate, since we only have one temporary cell left, and well, age before youth. Your son would have to go down into the more…" Smithe licked his lips and smiled again. "The permanent cells. You _do_ remember them, don't you Mr. Malfoy?"

Rage washed over Draco. "You _pathetic_ –,"

"Stop." Lucius' voice had lost all inflection. Draco froze at the sound. He _knew _that tone. His father drew himself up to his full height. "Very well, Auror _Smithe_." Lucius had his own smile for the man. It made Smithe fall back a wary step. "Come, Draco," Lucius never took his eyes from the other man. "It seems as though we must go hunting elsewhere." Lucius tilted his head to one side. "I _will_ remember this," he informed the Auror. Smithe's smile dimmed and died against the rage in Lucius' eyes.

Together, father and son stalked from the building. Owls burst from their lawyers' hands the moment they cleared the doors. Several were left at the prison to wait for instructions. Lucius took Draco by the shoulder and whispered into his ear. He nodded at his father's request, gripped the man's arm once and took the port key that the older man gave him. With a shared glance, Draco vanished from the prison's shores with a loud pop.

In the empty corridors of Hogwarts, a student had returned. Draco gripped his wand in one hand and marched for the Headmaster's offices.

End Chapter Seventeen

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews!


	18. Chapter 18: Waking Up

Chapter Eighteen: Waking Up

Hogwarts was eerie without the rush of other students long the dark corridors. Draco's footsteps tumbled down into distant echoes, rattling off cold, damp walls and chilly glass.

The gargoyle that protected the Headmaster's office would not move. Every password Draco tried was met with stony silence. He closed his eyes and took a long breath. He balanced his wand in the center of his palm and opened his eyes.

"Point me, Headmaster Dumbledore."

He followed the line of his wand through the long, quiet halls. The doors to the Infirmary parted with a creak of hinges. He heard Madam Pomfrey's voice, speaking to someone he could not see.

After the Headmaster's proposal had been defeated in the Ministry councils, Draco had not seen or heard anything from the old wizard. The dust up with Harry disappearing had been dealt with, but by all reports the inquiring press had been sent away by a curt Professor McGonagall and the Ministry fellows were silent on their meeting with the revered man, despite how much money Draco's father had thrown at the men.

"…You can't get up." Pomfrey was saying as Draco approached. He rounded the white curtains and stopped, glued in place by the sight in front of him.

The Headmaster looked _ancient_. The lines of the man's face were pronounced against gray skin. Draco's hand fisted around his wand. _Was there another attack? What's happening_?

"Mr. Malfoy!" Pomfrey's scandalized yelp snapped his attention to her.

"I need to speak to the Headmaster." He paused, giving the man a look. "It's about Severus."

"It is fine, Poppy."

"It most certainly is not." The Head Nurse set her hands on her hips and turned to the young man. "In case you are unable to comprehend what is front of your nose, the Headmaster is in no position to see anyone!"

"It is imperative."

"Poppy," the Headmaster's smile was more tired than kind. "Please. It will be all right."

"But…"

"Please, do be a dear."

Madam Pomfrey let out a long sigh. "You'll just make yourself worse."

"Everything will be fine," he smiled back at her. She shook her head, cast a withering glare at Draco and stomped off.

Draco watched her slip into her far office. "She is right, sir. You look awful."

"Why thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

He turned back to the Headmaster. "They've taken Severus to Azkaban."

Dumbledore went still and closed his eyes with a sharp, indrawn breath. "And Harry?" He asked.

"Gone. Scrimgeour told Black where he was and they used Auror's Rights to break through the wards."

"I thought your Manor would be able to keep them out."

"Not since the first time they arrested Father. We were forced to allow the Auror's Rights into our wards. With one word they can break into our home. One _word_," Draco forced his jaw shut and swallowed down the rest of his bitter words. "They've removed Harry to the Black Manor. No one has been able to contact them. They put Severus into Azkaban because the told Black where to shove it. He's been there for almost two _days_…"

The long sigh from the Headmaster stole the words from Draco's mouth. "I see, my boy. I see." Dumbledore pushed the blankets from his legs. Draco was shocked at how thin the man had become.

"Sir?"

The older man's smile was wry. "I am an old man, Draco." He sat at the edge of the bed and for once, Draco did not see him as The Headmaster, or as The Great Dumbledore, or even the hated Gryffindor sympathizer. All he saw was an old man in a small bed.

"Sir…"

"All things end, Draco." Dumbledore held out a hand to him. Draco took it, surprised by the sudden strength in the grip. Albus got to his feet, his long robes settling around him. He patted Draco's hand and smiled again. "But do not fear, Mr. Malfoy. I will not end this day. Come along, I fear I have much to do."

"But…you are not well."

"No, I am not." The man's strides were small, but quick as they crossed the floors to the hall. Pomfrey's door stayed shut behind them.

"I…" Draco scowled at the man's back as he trotted to catch up to the man's side.

"Old age is a disease none can resist," Albus' voice held a thready note that bothered Draco. "In my case, it is a disease I have been putting off for a long, long time."

"Sir?"

"Come now," they arrived at a door Draco had never seen before. "Be a good lad and call down for some tea. I would like a sip before we go."

Draco did as he was told, his head jerking back from the fire as a plate of tea and scones almost arrived right on top of him. He made a face at the fire, but took one up. The Headmaster came from his bedroom clad in a bright robe Draco recognized from years past. Before his eyes, he could see the old man pulling the act together; the bulky robes hid a thinning body. The bushy beard disguised an aging face. But the most breathtaking thing was the way the man's aura began to push out from his very core. The old man was gone and The Headmaster was back, the facade firmly in place.

"Come now, young Mr. Malfoy. I believe we have some people to save." Dumbledore drained a cup of tea in one draught.

"You'll be able to get Harry from the Black's too?" He felt a fierce flare of hope stir in his chest.

"No," the hope shattered to pieces. "That will be a battle I have no hope in winning."

"But…"

"Come, Draco. We must get Severus out of that prison." The older wizard hustled him from the rooms. He was almost running to keep up with the man. They cleared the Apparation wards of the castle faster than Draco had anticipated. The Headmaster put one hand on his shoulder and smiled, his bright eyes shining in the same way Draco had seen them shine for years on end.

But as they disappeared, Draco knew he would never forget the sight of an old man on an old, small bed in the middle of the Infirmary. It would be stay with him all through the fight at the prison, through his father's thunderous threats, through, even, Severus' grudging release.

It was a sight Draco feared would stay with him for a long, long time.

**qpqpqpqp**

Rufus scanned the heap of papers on his desk. In the five days since Potter's relocation, the spill of headlines had finally, _finally_ swung to his favor. Black's contribution, along with the sworn statement of that Healer's had helped to quiet the panic that had swept through the streets since the Incident with the Unspeakables.

It would have helped to have the Potter boy's own endorsement and sworn testimony of his innocence. Black claimed that the boy was still too ill for visitors. He was supposedly cleansing the kid – by his Healer's own prescription – which made that obstacle one he would have to tackle in the near future when they let the boy wake up.

"Sir?"

He glanced at his aide. The young man was new to his campaign, but had proved himself to be tenacious, tough and scarily organized even in the most chaotic situations. Rufus was coming to rely on him more and more each day, even if he couldn't seem to remember the boy's name.

"Your two o'clock meeting is here," the young man shuffled through a handful of papers. "Economic growth in the Lancaster area and his endorsement package."

"He brought it with him?"

"No, his accountants are arranging a transfer at Gringotts."

"Good."

"Also, Auror Gest told me to tell you that he couldn't find a lead." The young man read from a small pink slip of paper. He blinked and glanced at Rufus from over the rim of his glasses. "I hope that makes sense, sir. He said nothing else."

"It's fine, thank you." The young man nodded at the dismissal and slipped from the room.

Rufus had a moment before his newest sponsor entered the room. He took a slip of paper from the locked drawer in his desk and made a notation. The whispers of revolution – at least a revolution to Rufus' mind – was making the rounds. He wanted the instigators quieted before their ideas took hold in the public mind. The last thing he needed was a debate about muggle-wizard segregation, especially before the elections.

He never noticed that his aide had left the door cracked open, or that a bright eye had made note of his paper and the drawer before vanishing down the hall.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry felt like he was swimming through molasses. His body ached. A slow, dull beat had started in his head, shuddering through his bones, making even his teeth hurt.

Someone was talking to him. It sounded like Sirius – _But Sirius had given him the potion – no_, a warring voice whispered. _Sirius loves you, you know that. He must not have known what would happen. Come on, Harry. Time to wake up, now._

It took him several tries to open his eyes. His lashes felt gummed together. The world was unfocused. A dark blotch bent over him.

"…you are, kiddo!" Sirius' cheerful shout made the ache in his head intensify.

"…wha…"

A straw was stuck into his mouth before he could finish. _Water_, he drew it in gratefully. But there was something…_wrong_ with the taste.

"Come now, Harry," said a voice he didn't recognize. He drew back, blinking, from the rough, aged man on the other side of his bed. He was familiar, but…

"This is Healer Fondorn, Harry." Sirius patted his hand, making him jump. "He'll be your primary Healer from now on."

It took a moment for that to filter in. Harry's thoughts still felt a little like cotton shoved too tight into a small box. "But…Healer Fabing…"

"Is not, nor ever has been, a Healer of the body," the man tutted at him. "The Malfoys were quite wrong to take you to him. He only specializes in Dark Potions and curses! No wonder you ended up as a guinea pig to the man. I've put in for a formal inquiry to the man's practice."

"But," Harry managed before the straw was stuck back in his mouth.

"Drink it up, son," the Healer smiled at him, showing yellowed teeth.

He spit it out and turned his face away. "Healer Fabing was a _fine_ Healer," he protested. "He was doing what he thought was right. They said they didn't have a potion to give to me because of the damage –"

"Nonsense!" The man's bark cut him off. "There is nothing wrong with you that a little time outside and some toughening up won't fix."

It was so surreal that it took Harry a moment to register his words. "But _look_," he held out his hand. The tremors were faint, but noticeable.

Sirius enveloped his hand with both his larger ones. "Harry," he said after exchanging a glance with Healer Fondorn. "Finish the potion, okay? It's nutrition potion."

"And that's all?" Harry spared the viscous yellow-and-orange fluid a suspicious glance.

"Yes. Now, drink up."

He gazed at Sirius for a long moment. _He would never lie to me_, a voice whispered. _Sirius loves me. I can trust him._ He took the vial from the Healer, bent the straw and tried to drink it down as fast as he could.

"Good, good…" Sirius squeezed the hand he had trapped.

"Now," the Healer stood with a sharp clap of his hands. "Let's get you up and out of bed, young man!"

Harry slurped down the last of the potion and spit out the straw. "You're kidding, right?"

"Come on, kiddo." Sirius plucked the glass from his hands and set it aside.

"But…"

"Harry."

He blinked at the unfamiliar stern tone. He glanced at the Healer, and the back at his godfather.

Something softened in the animagus' expression. "It's okay, Harry. I know you'll be weak from being asleep, but you don't have to be embarrassed. Healer Fondorn is the Black family Healer. He's known me since I was little."

Harry's pride sat up, stung. "I'm not _embarrassed_," he sputtered.

"See," the wrinkles were back around Sirius' eyes. "There you are."

"Huh?"

"Come on, it'll be fine. You'll see." Sirius pulled back the covers. Harry tried to snatch them back when they revealed that he was wearing nothing but his underwear.

"Sirius!"

"We're all men here, Harry. It's fine."

He glared at his godfather. "Can I please have some clothes first?"

"Nope."

"Why not!"

"Because once you're out of bed, you're walking yourself to the bath."

Harry sputtered. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"Nope."

His mouth dropped open. "You're joking."

"Nope." The same cheerfulness was there, but there was an added note of steel to the voice.

Harry closed his mouth with a snap. "Sirius I was barely able to walk at the Malfoy's. How am I supposed to jump out of bed –," he frowned. "Wait what day is it? How long have I been asleep?"

"It's Friday."

"But…" Harry gripped the sheets. "That's – _five days_? What did you do?"

"Harry!" Sirius drew back, the picture of hurt.

"It was for your own good, young man." Healer Fondorn rounded the end of the bed and advanced. "I put you in a spell stasis until your body was purged of those potions the Malfoys had given you."

"But –," Harry's mind scrambled to put things together. "Then it'll be too late!"

"Too late for what?"

"To stop them!"

Sirius and the Healer exchanged another glance. "Stop who, Harry?"

Harry glanced between the two men. "Can I talk to you, Sirius? Please? Just the two of us?"

Fondorn frowned and began to shake his head. Sirius spoke before the Healer could.

"That's fine. A good idea," he and the other adult locked gazes.

"I'm not sure that would be best," Fondorn stated.

"It'll be fine," Sirius guided the man to the door with some difficulty. They had a heated exchange of whispers before Sirius shut the man out of the room.

Once the Healer was gone, Harry let out a long sight of relief. "Sirius – what in the world is going on? That man –"

"Harold James Potter." His full name dropped into the space between them like a ten-ton boulder. Harry snapped his mouth shut and pulled the covers over his body a little more.

"S-Sirius?"

The animagus took a few steps towards the bed and stopped. "I have no idea," he measured out his words with obvious care. "What those Malfoys and what Snape have said to you. I have no idea what kind of nonsense they have tried to convince you with. But you. Are. Not. Sick. Do you understand?"

Something cold and heavy bloomed in the pit of Harry's stomach. "But Sirius," he tried.

"No," the man made an abrupt slicing motion through the air. "Just – no, Harry. This is the truth: Scrimgeour is on the trail of the remaining Death Eaters who are making everyone so worried. _They _are the people who are trying to get everyone to take to arms against you. You don't have to fight any more, Harry." The animagus ground out. "It's okay. We have you. We'll take care of everything."

"But it's _not_ Death Eaters, Sirius! I – there's a whole other world out there, one I can see and visit and –,"

Sirius was at his side in a flash, his hands wrapped tight around Harry's shoulders. "Stop it, Harry." He punctuated his words with a shake. "The old gods may be back – fine. You and the others accomplished that. But you are no Seer into some new world. You are just Harry now, no matter _what_ those Slytherin bastards tried to make you believe."

"But…"

"Harry." Sirius bent down so he could meet the younger wizard's eyes. "Healer Fondorn explained it to me. You're _used_ to being the center of attention, even if you say you don't like it. But all that's over now. Voldemort is gone. The world will figure out what to do with itself without you trying to put yourself into the middle of it all."

Harry felt his face go hot, then cold. "I'm _not_ trying to be the center of attention," he whispered.

"Then why do you keep insisting on how sick you are? These visions you say you've had?"

"But they're _real_!"

"Harry," another shake. "Albus _told_ me your connection was with Voldemort. That's what the Potion did. It helped you get into his mind."

"But…"

"But he's dead." Yet another shake. Harry's headache beat at the back of his eyes. "There are no more visions, Harry. None of this sickly stuff. The potion," Sirius swallowed and his hands tightened around Harry's shoulders. "Look, Fondorn has taken a look at the potion that lingers in your system. He – he wants me to admit you to St. Mungo's for treatment."

Harry tried to draw away from the man. "No – _no_! They'll lock me up if they know."

"Fondorn won't say anything, Harry." Sirius soothed. "But don't you understand now? He's afraid the potion is making you – making you…unbalanced."

"But I'm not!"

"And even if the Malfoys meant well," there was rage in the animagus' eyes. "Even if they meant well, their actions did nothing but bolster the – the bad effects of the Vision Potion."

"But…"

"I don't want to do it. St. Mungo's Mental Ward is a scary place, Harry. But if he gets any more worried, I'll do it. I'm sorry, kiddo, but I love you and I'll do anything, everything to make you okay again."

A calm came down over Harry at his godfather's words. It pushed the disbelief, the panic, the hurt, all of it aside and let logic take over.

"You want to lock me up in a loony ward?" He clarified.

Sirius' expression crumpled. "Of _course_ not, Harry!" He sat on the edge of the bed and drew a limp Harry into his arms. Harry let him.

"But you'll let that Healer take me?"

"Only if I have to."

"What do you mean?"

"This lying, Harry, has to stop."

"You think I'm lying."

"Harry…"

"What else?" He cut off the disappointed sigh.

"You have to try, kiddo. You're not sick, so stop trying to make yourself that way. We need you out of the bed, being _normal_." Sirius drew away, leaving one arm around thin shoulders. He chucked Harry under the chin. "You see, Harry? You'll be fine. Just let us take care of everything."

"And if I do that, you won't let that Healer take me away?"

"Harry, don't think like that! If you do everything we ask, it won't even come up!"

The calm wavered, but he held onto it with a death grip. "Right," he said it on a breathless sight. "Right," he said again, stronger. "Fine. Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll do what you want, just don't put me away like an animal."

"Harry!" Sirius crushed him against his broad chest. "We would _never_ do that!"

Harry curled his fingers into the new, stiff material of his godfather's shirt. "Yeah," he whispered. "I know that." His eyes remained dry, however tight his throat felt. _I can do this_, he promised himself. _Sirius just needs to realize the truth. Once – once he sees that I'm not lying he'll hex that Healer to oblivion_._ You'll see, Harry._ The pain in his chest spread until it became numb. _You'll see. It _will _be fine. You can do this. You _can_ do this. You can_…

qpqpqpqp

"Come _on_, Harry!" Sirius sounded as frustrated as Harry felt. "It's just downstairs! You can do this!"

Washed, dried, in uncomfortably stiff clothes, Harry hung onto the rail of the staircase with both hands.

"Sirius," he began.

"You're not sick," the man hissed. "Healer Fondorn is in the hall waiting for you. I said you could do this and you _will_."

Harry clamped down on the first four things that came to his mind to say. "I was going to say," he tried when his temper was tied down. "That you're in my way."

Sirius stared at him for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. "Sorry, sorry," he bounced down a few stairs. "Now, let's go!"

Harry fixed a smile on his face and nodded back at the man. He ignored the sharp, hard bite of the rail under his hands.

His legs were trembling. His head was one ball of agony that pounded along in time with his heartbeat. He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted Draco. He wanted the whole week, the whole mess to never have happened. Instead he put one foot in front of the other and made his slow, wobbly way down the stairs.

The frustration he'd felt with his talk with Sirius had bled away into humiliation during the "bath". Sirius had refused to leave the room, saying that he had to make sure Harry did not fall. Harry had had a few _suggestions_ for his godfather to go try, but he had kept them to himself.

The humiliation warred with annoyance at the full closet of clothes he had not picked for himself. The bedroom, with its vivid colors, hurt his sensitive eyes. He didn't care about the Quidditch posters plastered along the walls. The constant movement from all directions made him dizzier than he already was.

Sirius had chosen his outfit. Sirius had declared that he had to wear his hair, _just like James! _And attacked Harry with a comb. Harry was full to the damn brim of Sirius and his suggestions. And it was only the first day he'd been "awake".

He made it to the hall. He'd done what Sirius asked.

"Now, to the den," the animagus beamed at him.

"You _said_ to the front hall," Harry pointed out. "I'm in the _hall_."

"And _now_ to the den!"

"You said the hall."

"And now I said the den."

"So you lied."

"Harry," Sirius frowned at him. "Come on, now. Don't be like that. It's for your own good. You made it this far. You can make it to the den."

Harry swallowed down a very graphic description of where Sirius could put his head and glanced around.

"Harry…"

"I don't know the way."

"Oh. Oh! That's right!" Excitement lit every line of the animagus' body. "We'll give you the grand tour later!"

"Sirius…"

"This way, Harry. Come on, you can do it."

With the help of the wall, and several curio tables, he made his way into the den. Ginny and Remus were seated on a couch, large smiles stretched across their faces. Even the Healer looked pleased.

"See, young man?" Fondorn rumbled. "You're just fine."

Harry kept his eyes averted and nodded. He slumped into a stiff chair – the furthest from the Healer he could get.

"Best not to push too hard," Fondorn continued to Sirius. "I must admit, he'll be weak after that stint of stasis. But by next week I want him up and about every day. You have the rest of my instructions, of course."

"Of course. Thanks so much." Sirius pumped the man's hand. "We'll keep you up to date with his status."

"Yes, yes. And remember, if he gets worse…" The Healer waggled a finger in Harry's direction. To his horror, it seemed as though both Remus and Ginny knew about his "lying".

There was a minute more of general goodbyes before the man left. Once he was gone, Ginny jumped up from her chair and made her way to Harry. She threw herself at him, holding him tight.

"Harry, I'm so glad you're home! We have _so_ much to tell you! There's so much to see, you just won't believe it!" He let her prattle on into his ear, nodding where appropriate. He didn't let them see the hand fisted in the scratchy material of his trousers, fingers clenched white against the fabric.

_I can do this_, he managed a smile and a nod from the ecstatic girl. _I can do this. I can do this. I can do this_….

End Chapter Eighteen


	19. Chapter 19: Unpleasant Places

Chapter Nineteen: Unpleasant Places

Harry ached. His bones felt brittle, his head pounded in time with the beat of his heart. The bright sunlight was agony to his sensitive eyes. But he forced a smile onto his face, locked his knees so he would stay standing and waved at the happy family riding along in the pasture without him.

He was lucky he was not forced to go with them. The muscles along his jaw were starting to tingle. He opened his mouth and flexed the aching joint. He wanted to rage at them. He wanted to shout. But he snapped his mouth shut when Ginny rode around the circle again, calling out with a wave and a smile.

Of all the ways his homecoming with the Blacks could have gone, this, _this_ was not the way he had imagined it. He had imagined a quiet time before school, where he could sit down and really get to know Sirius. He imagined tales of his parents – more about his mother, he'd hoped – and lots of sweets and games or _something_.

He had not expected a Healer who criticized his every move. He did not expect his godfather to be nodding along with the man. He did not expect to be chastised for telling the truth. He did not expect to be told one thing and after doing it, be told another and another and another.

_It's like nothing I do is enough_, the bitter voice spoke in the back of his mind. He swallowed down the rush of saliva in his mouth. He'd been feeling ill all morning. But the first time he'd pushed himself to the point where he had vomited, he'd been told to stop trying for attention. _After all Harry_, the insidious voice that sounded like his godfather's, _You're not sick. So stop _making_ yourself sick. It won't do you any good_.

He shook his head with a violent shudder. He wouldn't think that way. He _couldn't_. They loved him. They had to love him, right? Sirius believed this was for his own good. Sirius was being pressured by the family Healer. Sirius was trying to _save_ him, wasn't he? Fondorn wanted to put him in the mental ward at St. Mungo's. Sirius was saving him from that fate.

_Keep on believing that_, came a softer voice that sounded like Draco. _If it makes you feel better, you stupid Gryffindor_. Harry's heart ached whenever he thought of the blond. The subject of the Malfoys was strictly off limits in the Black household. The first time Harry had mentioned them, Sirius had blown up at him, shouting and screaming about the whole family for more than an hour. It was an ordeal that Harry did not want to repeat.

A shadow crossed his face, snapping his smile back into place. He blinked up at Remus, who held a tray of hot drinks in his hands.

"Bit cold out here, isn't it?" The werewolf settled down next to Harry on the stack of hay bales. He passed over a mug of hot chocolate. "Don't know where this wind came from. It was fine weeks ago."

Harry buried his nose in the thick, sweet liquid and tried not to be bitter. Weeks ago he was still at his Aunt's house, working in the yard, the garage, the kitchen…Weeks ago he was bleeding from the eyes as he waited for his godfather to save him from the Dursleys. Weeks ago…He closed his eyes against the rush of pain that flooded his bones. The hot chocolate tasted like mud.

"And how are you doing, Harry? I'm surprised you're not out there with Ginny and Sirius."

Harry went still at the question. He was beginning to dread those types of questions. He never answered them right. If he said he was fine all the time, they called him a liar. If he told them the truth, they said he was "slipping" back into the wrong mindset. He was getting bloody tired of the questions, truth be told.

"My knee felt funny," it was a partial truth, an art he was getting good at. He had taken a nasty fall the night before, trying to get to his rooms. Healer Fondorn had refused to heal the bruised joint, as a _reminder_ to stop being so weak. He was stronger than that! He should be out running around the grounds like a normal wizard his age! If he felt unwell, then he was obviously sliding back into the lies the Malfoys told him! Harry shuddered away from the sound of the Healer's voice in his mind. He had plenty of things he wanted to do to that _Healer_ of his godfather's.

"Ah, that's a shame," Remus patted him on the back just as he tried to take a sip of his drink. The resulting coughing spat brought Sirius over to the wooden fence.

"Wotcha, Harry?" The gleam of the animagus' eyes was bright in the sharp afternoon light.

Harry waved him off with a smile. "Remus is just trying to kill me," he tried for a joke. It fell flat.

"Harry," Sirius' face fell. "We've talked about that. No one is trying to kill you anymore…"

"I was joking! Kidding, funny, ha-ha?" He held up his cup. "I can't drink and breathe at the same time. Remus helped me find that out."

Sirius leaned against the fencepost. "We've also talked about that sarcasm before, Harry."

"Sorry," Harry swallowed back a bitter retort. "I thought it was funny."

"Well, it's not." Sirius frowned. "I thought we were going to have a good time today, Harry. You were doing so well."

"I'm fine!" Harry knew that tone. It was Sirius' "I'm disappointed in you" tone. It was the tone of voice his godfather used when he began talking about calling in Healer Fondorn to "look Harry over" yet again.

"Ginny's got talent, you know?" Harry cast around for anything to babble about. "Have you signed her up for lessons? Has she jumped anything yet?"

"What?"

"You know, like on the telly," Harry curled cold fingers around his mug. "A- Aunt Petunia used to watch it sometimes. Horse jumping. They had huge contests and whatnot. Prizes, wreathes, the whole thing. Beautiful horses too. Ginny would be great at it!"

Sirius' frown had not completely disappeared. "Ginny thinks about more things than _prizes _and _wreathes_. She's a good girl," the man closed his mouth with a snap. Harry ducked his head, hearing the words that were unsaid.

_Not like me_, he finished the unhappy thought.

"Harry, I didn't mean…" Sirius' unhappy sigh was loud in the silence. "Moony, tell him. I didn't mean it like that. You're both good kids. You just have…problems, sometimes, Harry."

"Sorry," it came out by rote. Harry was also getting bloody tried of apologizing for being who he was.

"Remus…" Sirius' tone was full of tight emotion. "Talk to him, would you? I – I just can't do this right now." Harry kept his head down as Sirius stalked away.

"He doesn't mean it, you know." Remus laid a warm hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I know."

"He loves you."

_Does he_? "I know."

"He wants what's best for you."

"He listens to Healer Fondorn a lot."

"Healer Fondorn has been taking care of Sirius since he was little."

"Was Healer Fondorn on his side when Sirius' family was against him?"

The warm hand went away. "Harry, Fondorn is a trusted, well respected Healer."

"He doesn't listen to me."

"I think he listens to you. You just don't like what he hears."

_That's the truth_, Harry's mouth twisted in an unhappy frown. "What if what I was saying _was_ the truth?"

"Harry…" The tired sigh in the werewolf's voice was hard to hear. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Fondorn told us to report when you tried to manipulate us into your line of thinking."

"But I'm _not_!"

"Yes, you are. Now come on, Harry. Sirius would _never_ hurt you. You know that."

Harry turned his face away, blinking back stinging tears. "Of course I know that," he said after clearing his throat. "Of course I do, Remus. I'm so happy to be here, really I am. It's – I guess I just need to adjust some more."

"Sirius was right. We never should have let the Malfoys have you. Even for such a short period of time."

Harry said nothing in return. They always tried to get him to agree. But he kept that piece of himself back from them, set aside and aloof from whatever else they wanted him to spout. He was grateful for the small time he'd had with Draco. It had given him enough time to learn how to access the roads that he could walk.

Harry focused on a far point on the horizon and tuned out Remus' words. He had a plan to put together. Pythia was right. No one could keep him where he did not want to stay. It was time his godfather and his new family found that out.

qpqpqpqp

Draco threw the handful of chalk in his hand at the far wall. The room was bare, save for the granite floor and piles of supplies he had set up along the wall outside of the circle.

He couldn't get it to work. He crouched down, his elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging limp in front of him. He could not call the circle into life. Something was missing. _Harry_ was missing.

The days and then week that had slipped by since Severus had returned to the Manor had been an agony for them all. Draco had never seen the Potions Master look so frail or so weak. He was woken in the night by the Severus' screams down the hall. Whatever had been done to the man had shaken the very foundation of the man's confidence. Lucius had said nothing on the matter, but the dark expression that had been settled onto his face since the whole mess had started told Draco volumes.

Draco had taken to honing his skill with the ancient arts. His years in Ancient Runes had helped enormously with the task. His owls to his classmates had been full of other information, most relating to his current project, some not.

The Slytherin family had not been found. Scrimgeour's sudden courting of the upper middle class muggleborn families was troubling. Unspeakables had been seen combing the whole of England for proof of the ancient gods returns. The Daily Prophet fought its battles in the arena of public commentary. The paper's headquarters were being protested and plastered with eggs and other rotted vegetables daily. The whole of the wizarding world was perched on the edge of the precipice that had one name firmly in its teeth. _Harry Potter_. They all believed Harry had the answers they needed. They all believed Harry was either their savior or the agent who would bring about the world's demise.

Draco wanted to kill them all. He wanted a way into the Black Manor where he could then rescue Harry and then – and then – _And then what, you bloody fool? Take him home? They'd storm the doors and wreck everything even worse. Go into hiding? That would just make the rumors worse. There is _nothing_ you can do_!

He slammed a fist into the cold, gray tiles under his feet. His hand bloomed with pain, but he pushed it aside. _I need help_, he clenched his eyes shut and swallowed down a scream. _Please_, he didn't know whom he was praying to. _Please, let him be all right. Let him know I – we're worried about him. Please…_ He fell forward, hands spread against the cold ground. _Please let him be all right_…

qpqpqpqp

The Dark folded around her, the slice of open sky and strange stars unfolding before her. The Morrigan winged through the quiet courtyard of Gwyn ap Nudd, transforming as she landed. Her boots made no sound on the cobblestones.

The castle was restored to its former brilliance. The high walls of the bailey blocked out the stars. The moon that hung low on the horizon threw her shadow against the dark stone.

There were lights on in many of the rooms. She could hear laughter coming from the main hall. The odors of roasting meat and herbs filled the air. Cold wind swept around her; the stench she had been chasing still lingered in her nose.

The doors banged open at the push of her hands. The bright laughter was cut off. She stood on the threshold to light and warmth, her hair wild about her face.

Gwyn ap Nudd stood with the long scrap of his chair against the stone floor. "Morrigan," his bow was brief.

"I need to speak to you."

The Winter King glanced down at the girl at his side. Erin wrapped one hand around his wrist and turned large eyes up at the god. He touched the side of her face with the back of his hand.

"I am busy."

"Not busy for this, I promise you."

"Then come eat with us and we will discuss this matter after."

"It cannot wait."

"Morrigan," the god let out a short puff of air. "What do you want?"

"Can you not smell it?"

She was answered by a slow blink. "Smell what?"

"Something is wrong, boy. Have you see the Dark? It boils like water over a fire."

"The Dark has receded from our lands, Morrigan. We have been given back out suns and our moons, our stars and our fertile land. There is nothing wrong with the Dark."

"Something has returned."

"Yes, we have."

"Something…else."

Gwyn ap Nudd shook his head, turned his face away from her. "You are restless, we all are. But now is not the time for strife and war, old crow. Blood will flow soon enough; let us enjoy what peace there is."

"You fool," she snarled, startling him. "It's already here. It's everywhere. You are the god of Annwn and yet you turn your face away from what should be your duties!"

"And you are too eager to resume yours!"

"My _duties_ have been to the protection of our people and _something is wrong_!"

His fist rattled the cutlery on the table. "Your _duties_? Since when has the great goddess of frenzy and battle taken interest in her other _duties_? You hunger for war and that is all!"

"And you have gone soft with the arrival of that little brat at your side!"

The thick silence that fell was broken by Erin's shocked gasp.

"You would do well to think wisely about your next words," Gwyn ap Nudd said.

The Morrigan clenched her hands into fists at her side. "We all wish for peace," the word was spat from her mouth. "But I tell you, god of Annwn, there is something rotten moving through the Dark. It is there," she raised a long, tapered finger. "It is there, eating away at everything we think is whole once more. No amount of wishing will make it go away. That which you hold dear will be taken from you, if you do not open your eyes and _look_."

"You go too far, Morrigan." The god raised himself to his full height. "You have _never_ understood that which drives most of us. All we have wanted was a stable land, our families, our loved ones safe. You are death and despair, nothing more. You see shadows where there are none."

"And you are a fool," she turned her head and spat. Her blood raced through her veins. "_You_ are the one who knows nothing." She turned on her heel and stalked for the door. "Open your eyes, little boy. Stop playing at being the doting father and _be_ one." She transformed before he could speak, letting out a piercing scream into the face of the glowing moon. A door to the Dark opened in front of her and she was gone.

qpqpqpqp

Harry jolted awake with a choked off cry. He passed one hand across his watering eyes, wincing at the sight of blood on the back of his hand.

His door opened before he could wipe the evidence away. Sirius came into the room, hair mussed from sleep. "Harry?" He stood with his wand in his hand, the lighted tip illuminating the room.

"It was just a bad dream, Sirius." He turned his face away from the older wizard, trying to hide the state of his face.

"You were shouting," the animagus moved closer to the bed. "Are you all right?"

"Just shaken. I'm fine. I'll be asleep in no time."

Sirius flicked his wand at the bedside lamp. The fire roared to life in the hearth. Harry wiped at his face, hoping he got most of the blood off of his skin.

"Harry?" Sirius sat at the edge of the bed. "Would you look at me, please?"

Harry flicked a glance in the man's direction. "It's nothing, Sirius. Really."

"A bad dream isn't nothing, Harry. You want to tell me about it?"

"No, not really."

"Come now," Sirius reached out and patted Harry's shoulder. "James would always tell me his bad dreams and I could always cheer him up. You're just like him, aren't you? I'll have you on your way to a dreamless sleep in no time."

Harry felt a muscle tick in his jaw. "Sirius," he kept his eyes to the wrinkled coverlet. "You…you _do_ realize I'm not my father, right?"

"Of course," the animagus waved it off with a laugh. "But all wizards take after their parents, you see? You look just like him, you act just like him – well, usually," a faint frown passed over his face. "You'll be back to normal in no time, kiddo! Now, tell me about this dream."

Harry hid his bloody hands under the covers. "I…" He really didn't want to talk about the dream. "It's all kind of muddled," he hedged.

"Oh, one of _those_," Sirius nodded with affected gravity. "They mean nothing, Harry. They're just your mind putting random bits and pieces of memory and imagination together. They do _not_ tell the future," Sirius reached out and gripped Harry's shoulder once more. "No matter what anyone says. True Seers are born from the Families that carry the talent. They don't come out of evil potions or anything else. Right, Harry?"

"…Right. Of course."

"So what was your dream?"

"…It was nothing."

"It was a lie, just imagination. Right?"

"It was a dream."

"Right, exactly." Sirius let out a long breath. "You want a potion to get back to sleep?"

"No, thank you."

"Cookies?"

"No, thank you."

"You're refusing _cookies_? James never refused cookies." Sirius shook his head with a laugh. "Tandy!" The house elf appeared with a soft pop of displaced air. "A plate of cookies, please."

"No, really, Sirius…"

"And two glasses of milk," the animagus winked at Harry. "We can't have cookies without milk, now can we?"

Harry drew in a long breath through his nose. "I'm really tired, Sirius. Can we have cookies tomorrow?"

"But it's already tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow during the daylight hours, then?"

"_Now_ you sound like your mother!" Sirius ruffled Harry's mussed hair. "Fine, fine, be the voice of reason. But we'll get that seriousness right out of you, you'll see. You're young, Harry! It's time for you to explore and play pranks and _live_." Sirius stood with a grin. "You're doing _great_, Harry. Healer Fondorn is really pleased. You'll be back to normal in time for school. Aren't you happy?"

Harry averted his eyes, focusing on the roaring fire in the hearth. "I'm happy he's pleased," he said.

"There's a lad," Tandy reappeared with the requested plate of cookies. Sirius took one and popped it into his mouth. "You sure you don't want one?"

"No, thank you."

"Your loss," the animagus shrugged and took the plate from the bewildered house elf. "See you in the morning, Harry." He turned for the door. Harry watched him go with shadowed eyes. The house elf doused the fire and the lights, leaving him alone in the dark. The door to his room closed with a thump. He was alone.

Harry drew his hands out from under the covers. In the waning light of the moon he could see the streaks of blood that decorated his palms. He closed his eyes against the sight and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

The image of a pit of bodies from his dream haunted him for the rest of the night.

End Chapter Nineteen


	20. Chapter 20: Reasons

Chapter Twenty: Reasons

The Malfoy Manor's wards parted under the Morrigan's rage. The main door slammed open, the crack of it hitting the wall echoing up the staircase.

Lucius Malfoy and his son appeared in front of her. "What is this?" The older wizard had dark rings under his eyes. The young one was in no better condition. She ignored the man and turned to the son.

"Where is Harry?" She stepped across the threshold. "I have followed his scent to this place before, but I do not sense him in this house now. Where has he gone?"

"They have taken him," the boy – _Draco_ – had chalk smeared across one pale cheek.

"Who?"

"The Blacks."

"Blacks…" She cocked her head to one side. "The dog and the werewolf, yes?"

"Yes."

"You allowed this to happen?"

"We could not stop them." A new voice spoke. She turned, finding the Potions Master in the entry to the den.

"You," she studied the thin form. "Severus Snape. I took you to him, I entrusted him to your care."

"Yes."

"You have failed me."

The thin face twisted. "It seems as though I have."

"Severus didn't fail _anyone_," Draco stepped forward. "The Blacks took him against our will. Scrimgeour betrayed us."

"Draco," Lucius silenced his son with a sharp glance.

"But…"

The Morrigan kept her eyes on the Potions Master. "What has happened here?"

"The boys found a teacher," the man was trembling, she noted. He had his hair tied back in a tail at the nape of his neck. Something had happened while she was away in the Dark. Too much had happened. Things were moving too fast and she did not like it one bit. Snape related to her all that had happened while she was gone; the family's betrayal by the Ministry hopeful made her blood boil. But it was not something she could dwell on. She wanted to see her dream child and she wanted to see him _now_.

"This Black family," she cut him off mid-sentence. "I want their scent."

"We do not have it."

"The Dark take you, mortal, that boy –,"

"He's not well," Draco moved forward. "We need to take him away from them."

"Do I look like a fool, child? It was apparent that boy was not well when he was rotting away in that house where his aunt lived. _Mortals_," her hand sliced through the air. "Give me your hand." She reached for Draco.

"What are you doing?" Lucius stepped forward.

"He cannot take you to Harry," Severus stepped into the hall. The scent of old death and dried blood reached her nose. It was not a physical scent; she closed her eyes and studied the form of the man in front of her. His aura was ripped in places, ragged at the edges.

She opened her eyes. "What was done to you?"

He rocked back on his heels, his nose going into the air. "Nothing was done to me."

"Liar."

"I beg your pardon?"

She advanced on him, one slow step at a time. "Something has been at your soul," she reached out and touched his chest with a singer finger. She felt the flinch under the pad of her skin. "Something has been tearing at your mind with lies and despair. It almost smells like the creature I am hunting," she sucked in her bottom lip through her teeth and frowned. "But it is too young to be what I am thinking," she said. She studied the lines of his face. "You are worried for the boy."

"Of course not. Black is a fool but he would never harm Harry. Potter."

"You doubt your own words."

"I do not."

She withdrew her hand. "I would," she told him.

He ducked his head. The two other mortals moved at her back, trapping her between them. It was a useless move; power burned through her veins, beating under her skin, keeping time with her heart.

"…Potter is strong," Severus said on a whisper. "He will survive."

"So will you," she touched the bowed head. It startled him into looking up. "Death does not come to creatures with such valiant hearts," she ignored the man's snort. "Do not sulk, so. It does not become you."

"_Sulk_?"

"Yes," she stepped back and turned. The boy – _Draco_ – was in front of her. She bent her head close to his and breathed in. The scent of her boy, her dream child, filled her nose.

"What are you doing?"

"Hunting," she smiled into the dark behind her closed eyelids. The world expanded around her. The house glowed with the power of the wizards inside it. The lands around them were striped with faint ley lines. She sent her mind along the lines, sketching the contours of the mortal world into her bones.

"I must go." She opened her eyes and blinked. "You are almost there, child." She touched the chalk on the boy's cheek. A rush of feathers filled the air. One drifted down in the startled silence that she left, to land on Draco's palm. He curled his hand around it, bring it to his chest. Neither adult said a word as he turned and left the room.

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The Morrigan did not like the Black Manor. It sat on the convergence of several ley lines. Many of them were tainted red and a sickly yellow; the weight of blood and fear was on the bones of the house.

Her skin broke out into goose bumps at her entry. No alarms sounded. The silent foyer was doused with shadows. Fixed paintings lined the walls. The third step from the top of the landing squeaked under her foot. She froze, studying the distant doors that lined the hall. None opened.

She followed her nose to a room on the left hand side. The taste of fresh blood was in the air. The handle turned under her palm. She entered.

The boy was frozen on the floor. A lighted candle created a small circle of light around him. Blood marred the skin of his hands. He stared up at her, his mouth open in a silent gasp.

"Harry," she shut the door behind her. He had begun to tremble. "Child?"

Two stumbling steps found him in her arms. She drew him tight, tucking his head under her chin. There was a slim, blank book open on the floor, with a pen and ink well open next to it. Her dream child had fisted his hands in the material of her tattered shirt.

"Talk to me, child. What is wrong?"

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"Neville?"

The blond haired boy looked up from the row of plants in front of him. The scent of warm earth filled the air; the hothouse was almost overrun by blooming vines and hanging baskets. The long rows of medicinal plants took up most of the ground space. The next building over was his Gran's garden, but he never went there. His Gran took care of her own plants by herself, thank you very much.

Blaise stood in the door to the hothouse, one hand on the slick glass portal. The other young wizard had been growing like mad over the summer; Neville thought Blaise was taller every time he saw him. _Which is quite a lot_, a small voice informed him. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and tried to quell his rising blush.

"There you are," Blaise let the door swing shut behind him. They were alone in the hothouse. Unbidden, a sense memory of the _last_ time that had happened made Neville turn back to his plants with a burning face.

"Are you well?" Hands settled onto his shoulders.

"I'm fine, thank you." Neville's hands stayed rock-steady as he snipped the last of the dead leaves from his plant. "They're starting to droop," he continued hastily as the hands moved down his arms to his elbows. "I haven't seen anything like it."

Blaise stepped to his side, one hand lingering on Neville's waist. "Drooping?" He studied the plants. "Why is this bad?"

Neville frowned at the other boy. "Madam Sprout has covered this for the last five years, Blaise."

"Humor me. I'm not the gifted one, remember?"

Neville's snort surprised him more than Blaise. He ducked his head, letting his bangs hide his face. "Blaise…"

"Why's it important?"

"…It's a sign of fall," Neville allowed the conversation to continue.

"Well, it's half past August. Isn't it time?"

"No. Not for these plants." Neville turned away from the huddled circle of plants on his cutting table. "See? Over there – the herbs are starting to die off. This is a hothouse, Blaise. The herbs are not let to lie fallow until spring like outside gardens. Something is not right." He wrapped his arms around his middle. "It sounds funny to say that. Everything is fine, well…sort of. But…"

"Neville?" There was an odd note in Blaise's voice. He turned.

"Yes?"

The Slytherin was holding out a folded note. "I got this from Draco the other day." Dark eyes met blue. "What else do the plants tell you?"

Neville blinked at the boy and took the paper. "They don't tell me anything, Blaise. It's just how they react to things."

"So tell me what their reactions are telling you."

"…Winter's coming," Neville shook his head as he unfolded the note. "It's coming too fast for it to be normal. Something is affecting the seasons. As for what or who, I don't know." His eyes skimmed the note. His legs went out from under him. The sturdy milk crate made for a handy seat.

"Neville?"

"This…" The spidery script was Draco's. Neville caught Blaise's eye. "This has been happening all summer?" The bluntness of the note took Neville's breath away. His free hand clenched into a fist.

"Yes."

"And Harry…"

"Draco did not write me until now," Blaise crouched down next to him. "I swear to you, Neville, if I had known more about what was going on, I would have told you."

"…I believe you. I do." Neville felt a muscle move in his jaw. "We've missed a lot of things," he said.

"Yes."

Neville returned to the note. He read it again, picking out the places were Draco's quill had dug into the paper hard enough to tear it. "He is angry."

"Oh, yes."

Neville let the paper drop to his lap. His clenched fist went lax as he stared past Blaise, out over his beloved plants. "What are you going to do?" He finally asked.

Blaise reached out and touched his arm. "I came here to discuss this with you," the dark eyes were trained on him. "We're together in this, Neville."

"I'm hardly the person who can…"

"Neville," Blaise's sharp retort cut him off. "Don't. You _are_ smart, you _are_ brave and so help me Merlin, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the nonsense your family has filled your head with."

That caught Neville by surprise. He blinked the hot moisture that had gathered in his eyes. "R-right," he ducked his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Then…what can _we_ do?" His voice came out stronger.

"…I was hoping you'd have some ideas," Blaise fell backwards with a soft grunt. He hooked his arms around his legs and stared up at Neville. "The family with the Slytherin first year has disappeared. None of our spies in the Ministry have come up with a name or a record. It is like they vanished."

"That's not possible."

Shadows gathered in Blaise's eyes. "It is possible, Neville, if one uses the Unspeakables."

Neville's breath caught. "They _wouldn't_."

"Who knows what they would and would not do?" A bitter laugh escaped Blaise. "But be that as it may, we can't find them. We'll search the House when we get back to school, but I have a feeling we won't find them."

Acid burned in the back of Neville's throat. "That is _wrong_."

"Yes, it is."

Neville drummed his fingers on his thigh. "The – the letter says that they were taken in for questioning."

"Yes."

"Have you asked to see the secretary's logs?"

Blaise's eyebrow rose. "The what?"

"Entry logs into places are kept at the front desks," Neville ran a thumb over the last few lines of the letter. "In – in questioning people, that is considered part of being on the job, right? They would have to be paid for those hours. To be able to be paid for those hours, a record of those hours have to be kept. The names of the prisoners are kept secret, but…" He shrugged and finally met Blaise's eyes. "The names of the…people doing the questioning are on some kind of pay sheet in the Ministry building."

He was taken by surprise at Blaise's sudden movement. Hands curled around his cheeks, holding him in place. The kiss was hot, fervent and placed Blaise between Neville's legs for better leverage.

It was _not_ the position he would have wanted his Gran to walk in on.

The sound of a throat clearing behind them made both boys freeze. Neville's eyes opened to see the older witch standing with her arms folded across her chest.

"I see you're done with the trimming, Neville. Come along, it's far too late for you to be up. Young Blaise can visit tomorrow." The beady glint in her eyes was too much. Neville buried his face in Blaise's shoulder and laughed.

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The Morrigan curled a hand around Harry's head and held him close. The boy's tears had dried to a faint trail on his face. He stayed curled into her side, both of them tucked up on the couch with the fire dying to low embers in the hearth in front of them.

"I will take you from this place," she said into the silence.

The boy went tense in her arms. "I can't," he said after a moment.

"Nonsense. I will take you away. That is final."

"I can't, Morrigan." He pulled back from her arms. She did not want to let him go. His reddened eyes were puffy from the tears.

"Why not?"

He ran his hands across his cheeks. "It will just make things worse." He would not meet her gaze.

"Make what worse?"

"Sirius, the Ministry, Healer Fondorn, all of it."

"I will settle this, child. They have _no right_…"

"And they'll just say I'm lying again." The bitter note in the boy's tone made her heart ache.

She cupped the sharp chin with one hand and tilted his face to hers. "You are _not_ lying, Harry." She brushed his bangs away with her free hand. "You are a brave, brave boy. You have seen things that would send others fleeing into the Dark, screaming, their minds shattered. You are not broken. You are not insane. You are dealing with things that have not been brought into the mortal realm for millennia. I think you are doing well, in spite of all that."

His blush reached the tip of his nose. "Thank you."

"I would still take you away from all this."

This time the boy did not tense in her hold. "I…can't," he said again, much to her irritation.

"They do not deserve you."

A wry smile touched the boy's lips. "I'm glad you think so." He shook his head. "If I leave, the Ministry will lose what little control over the people it has."

"This _Ministry_ does little for your own welfare."

"They do what is best for everyone." Harry moved his chin from her hand and glanced over at the bed. "I've been reading the papers when they can't see. Scrimgeour is trying to convince everyone that the deaths are the work of rogue Death Eaters. Fudge is trying to convince everyone that _I'm_ the rogue Dark Lord in training. Right now Scrimgeour has the upper hand in the presses."

"Mortal issues," she waved a hand. "They are blind."

"Not exactly," he shifted back to her side, the tense line of his shoulders fading as she wrapped her arm around him. "Fudge still has the Unspeakables behind him. They've been giving rumors to the press, which is what Scrimgeour's Aurors are saying. I know they have the Manor being watched." The boy swallowed hard. "I know they're watching Draco and his family."

"Your boy is quite angry."

"He's not…my boy."

"He is yours though, as you are his," she touched the dark hair with pale fingers. "He will fight to get back to your side no matter what."

"…I know."

"As you would, if you could."

"…Yes." It was said on a breath of a whisper.

"And yet you still say you cannot leave this new cage."

Harry flinched from her words. "No. I can't."

Another sigh. "Mortals."

"We are what we are."

"What good does it do if this _Ministry_ keeps you cooped up here?" She snapped her fingers at the floor. "You are not safe here. These wards are like paper."

"It's not the wards they're worried about." He set his chin on his drawn up knees. "The Black family is an old, respected family. I heard Sirius talking to Ginny about it the other night. Before…before Sirius' parents got a hold of the lands, his family was like an old feudal family. They had the lands and the workers and they kept up their villages."

"They're really rich, you know?" He continued. "They did a lot of public works, threw a lot of society balls, all that. Sirius' parents dented the name, but a lot of people still remember the Black family as people who took care of the poor and the needy. The Malfoy's came from France, I guess and don't have the best reputation with the poor. They've been blackened so much by the press that if I stay there, people will believe that I'll become evil too."

"I say to you again, _mortals_."

"Yes," he huffed out a laugh. "The people feel safe if I'm here with Sirius, who's been out in the press declaring that he's my rightful godfather and that he's going to cleanse the family name and people are just eating it up." He shivered. "If I do anything to unbalance this, everything comes crashing down. The wizarding world with vote for Fudge. He'll have me thrown into Azkaban. And then we won't be able to find whatever it is that's doing all this."

"…Oh child," she hugged him close. "Would that I could take you from this place and _never_ let you come back."

He turned his face into her neck. "That's a nice dream," he said. "But it'll never happen. They won't let me go, not now. There are debates in the press at whether I should have died in the fight with Voldemort. Some know the truth. Some say the gods should have never let me come back."

"I will rip out their throats and stomp their bodies into mud."

"Too late now," his sigh was weary. "The words are already out there. I just have to deal with it."

"…I will be here for you, dream child. I will not let you face this alone."

"You don't have to."

"Hush, child. Sleep. It is almost dawn."

"Morrigan…"

She tucked him closer to her side and drew the throw over them both. "Don't be silly," she crooned into his hair. "Sleep now, sleep and rest. I will stand guard over your dreams."

His eyes slipped closed at her words. Inch by inch, the body in her arms went lax. As the dawn tinted the sky, broken and angry by the storm clouds on the horizon, the Morrigan stayed awake, golden eyes wide in the gloom, watching over her boy. There was no place else she had rather be.

End Chapter Twenty


	21. Chapter 21: Friends

Chapter Twenty-One: Friends

"Harry!" Sirius' voice echoed down the hallway. He opened the door without knocking. "Kiddo! Time to wake up! You've got mail!" He stepped into the room, holding the letters in one hand.

The sight of an empty bed knocked the breath from his lungs. Before he could panic, the soft sound of a sleepy Harry came from the couch. He turned, his heart starting to beat again. _He must have fallen asleep on the ruddy couch_, he shook his head at the thought.

"There you are!" He tried to keep his voice cheerful and loud. The boy surrounded himself with too much gloom; it hurt to see it. Sirius pushed the thought away and plunked himself down on the couch, narrowly missing the thin feet of his godson.

"You've got mail," he repeated and held them out. Harry's hair stuck up in all directions, almost as if…Sirius frowned and looked closer. It almost looked as though someone had been mucking a hand through his godson's hair, but that was impossible. _Must be like James_, he clung to the thought. _James' hair used to stick up every morning. I'm sure of it._

Remus said he was focusing too much on James when it came to Harry. Sirius didn't think so. After all, Harry was James' living image! _Well, almost._ He cast an eye over the boy. _He used to be_, he sighed. Sons were like their fathers, weren't they? Sirius frowned at the thought…but his father wasn't so much as a father to Sirius as James' father had been, so of course that was all right. He knew what he was doing. Of course he did. Healer Fondorn would have said something if he was doing it wrong.

He watched Harry finger the open letters. Sharp green eyes met his. "You read them?"

"Well, we opened them," Sirius felt like squirming under the direct stare. "A lot of people out there want to hurt you. We're just doing what's best for you."

"What's best for me," Harry echoed. He seemed to find that funny.

"Kiddo…" Sirius was feeling it again. That gulf of distance between them that would not close. He wanted to reach out and gather Harry up in a hug. But something held him back, and he wasn't sure what. He wanted his godson back. He wanted the kid who used to light up when he entered the room. He wanted the boy who would prattle on about Quidditch and flying and silly things, chasing away the gloom that hovered in Sirius' mind. He wanted the boy back, not the incarnation that sat in front of him, too still, too quiet, too…_gone_.

"A letter from Neville?" Harry's soft, wondering tone brought Sirius back to the present. Shadowed eyes scanned the short note. Harry looked up at him, and those soft eyes went hard for a brief moment.

"You read them too, didn't you?"

"Well…"

"What's best for me, of course," Harry interrupted with a shake of his head.

The frustration was building again. "Healer Fondorn said to watch what was given to you." It made something inside him tighten at the fear that crossed Harry's face at the mention of the old Healer's name. "If you were influenced so easily by the Malfoys…"

"Then of course I'll be susceptible to other's influences," the boy muttered.

"I didn't mean it that way, Harry…"

"Yes, you did."

The frustration was turning into anger. "You should be grateful to Healer Fondorn," he snapped without thinking. "He's working is arse off to help you and you don't even care!"

The silence that came down between them was razor sharp.

"Harry…" Sirius closed his eyes against the sight of his godson's pale face and large eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sirius." The words were fragile. "I'll try harder, really."

It was what he wanted to hear…and not. He wanted Harry back to his old self. He wanted that rambunctious energy that used to pour off the boy in waves. He wanted…he wanted to go back in time and stop everything that happened, to change it somehow, to keep Harry the way he was. It would have been better than…

Sirius stood with a swallowed growl. He would _not_ have that thought in the same room as Harry. He wouldn't. He paced to the window, hands clasped behind his back. James' father used to pace that way, back and forth, back and forth in front of the fire when he and James had gotten into trouble over some prank or another.

"Can Neville come over?" The question was not what he was expecting. He had been braced for Harry's bitter retort, parsed the same way _Snivilus_ used to…

"Padfoot?"

The old nickname caused his shoulders to sag in relief. He turned on the boy, seeing how Harry was curled up on one end of the sofa, hand buried in the throw blanket that still covered him. Harry's bangs were hanging in front of his eyes, making it impossible to see them clearly.

"Harry," Sirius got out before his throat closed. He bounced over to the boy and swept him up in his arms, holding the frail body tight. _Merlin, he needs to eat more_, he noted as the thin arms tensed against him. He sat them down in the couch with a thump, which made Harry squeak.

"Of course Neville can come over," Sirius managed to get out. "He can stay as long as he wants! Harry, it's so _good_ to see you acting normal again! James would be so proud! You two can even play pranks on us, we won't care!" Relief freed the laughter from his throat. It was that or cry, and crying wasn't very manly. In his mirth he did not hear Harry's reply. But it didn't matter. His kiddo was on his way back. Healer Fondorn had been right all along.

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Neville's arrival at the Black Manor was a large affair. Remus, Ginny and Sirius were on hand to witness the other boy's arrival. Harry stayed seated on the couch until the Floo fires flared green and the other Slytherin tumbled into the room.

Sirius was the first to reach the soot-covered boy. Harry rose, but stayed back, knowing his godfather's temperament. Neville thanked the animagus several times and stood with the help of a friendly hand.

_He's grown_, Harry blinked in shock. Neville stood almost as tall as Sirius. His shoulders had filled out, and the pleasant tan on the boy's skin spoke to long hours out in the sun. _I wonder what Blaise looks like now_…He shook away the thought with a twitch of his hand. He could ask later, when they were alone.

Neville turned to him. "Harry," the smile that broke out over his friend's face was one Harry knew all too well. The crisp line of teeth and the head tilt shadowed the eyes that weren't smiling at all. Harry copied the motion.

"Hello, Neville." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. The shakes were going to be bad that day. He'd woken up from several dreams the night before. He _knew_. "You're right on time."

"Well, I try not to be. Gran says you should always be early."

"For shame!" Sirius broke in. "All good Gryffindors are always late to the party. They make the party! It's the only way to be!"

Neville caught Harry's eye. He shook his head. "Well, one way or the other, lunch is here," Harry said. "Can we eat?"

Neville's face went pink. "Ah, yes please." Harry's eyebrow twitched. "Gran says I'm growing like a weed. I don't agree, since weeds last just weeks and this has been happening for months." Neville turned his stare to Harry.

He ducked his head and stared at his feet. "Growing is good," he agreed.

"Well, if you fellows are hungry, then let's eat!" Sirius clapped his hands together. Ginny took that moment to rush forward and throw a hug around Neville's waist.

"It's so good to see you!" She leaned back, her cane held loose in one hand. "How have you been? I bet you've been gardening all summer? You're so tan! We've been trying to get Harry out in the sun more but he's being a sour puss…Come on! We'll give you a tour after lunch!"

"Ginny," Remus broke in with a quiet laugh. "Let the boy get a word in edgewise."

"Sorry," the girl grinned up at Neville. She let him go and turned to Harry. "Come on," she said and grabbed his hand. "Tandy made your favorites."

"Really," Harry murmured.

"Yep," Ginny's hand tightened on his. "Sirius told her all your favorites."

"I see."

They were leading the party into the dining room. Ginny's sharp look over her shoulder was lost on the others. Harry raised his eyebrows back at her.

Harry had been looking forward to seeing Ginny again. He had worried about the girl after he had gone to stay with his relatives. _I shouldn't have_, a traitorous voice snapped in the back of his mind. _She was doing just fine here without me_. He tried to smile at the girl and quell the voice. He cared for Ginny. She deserved to be happy, especially since the mess that went on with the Weasleys.

_I thought it would be different_, he bit back a sigh as he allowed Ginny to drag him further into the room. He sat at one end of the long side of the table. He would be between Ginny and Sirius. Neville would be across from him, away from whispering distance.

They settled into their places. Sirius fired questions at Neville, who answered them with surprising deftness. Harry was pleased to see the change in his friend. _Blaise must be working with him_. The thought held no pain. It was a good thing to see Neville so happy. One of them had to be.

"I thought we'd be able to go to Diagon Alley together, Harry," Neville said halfway through lunch.

Sirius' spoon paused in midair. "I don't know," his godfather said. He cast a glance at Harry that he was able to read all too well. _Are you going to behave_? That was how Harry read it. Was he going to tremble and shake like a child? Was he going to _lie_ again?

Harry washed the bitter thoughts down with a long drink from his water glass.

"Gran said I could go on my own, but I thought it would be more fun to go with Harry. And Ginny, of course." Harry tried not to choke on his water. He set the glass down harder than he meant, giving Neville a quick glance. The bland look he received in turn was surprising.

"That would be fun," he said before Sirius could say no.

"I haven't had a chance to look over my lists yet," Neville continued. "You?"

"…I got them with your open letter."

"Harry…" Sirius frowned at him.

"What?" He tried to pour as much innocence into his look as possible. "Neville's letter was very open. Not like those other letters you've been weeding out for me, right?"

Sirius' frown vanished. Ginny's elbow dug into his side.

"Harry," she hissed at him. "Neville doesn't need to know about all that."

"Right," he smiled down at her. "Of course, he doesn't."

"If it's all right with you, of course," Neville told Sirius.

"Well…" The animagus looked between them. "If we all went together, I don't see how it could be a problem. Scrimgeour's got the press all settled down. I haven't seen a bad article about Harry in a week, right, kiddo?"

"You don't let me see the news, remember, Padfoot?" Harry tucked into his meal, shuffling his food from one side of the plate to another.

"Oh, that's right. Sorry I forgot."

"Quite all right."

Ginny's foot came into contact with his angle. He narrowed his eyes and glared at her from the corner of her eye.

"Harry's being a bit dramatic," Ginny said to Neville. "We've got to watch for that all the time you see."

"Ginny," Sirius wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.

"Well, he _is_. Healer Fondorn said so, and we've got to be vigilant. If Neville's here, then he's got to know, too."

"Well…" Sirius pushed his plate away. "Not right now, okay, Gin?"

"…Fine."

"Why don't you and I go riding again?" Sirius asked her. "You wanted to work on the small jumps, didn't you?"

"Really?" Ginny's face lit up. "You mean it, really? I can?"

"Of course you can."

"Thank you!" Ginny tore out of her seat, her cane thumping along in a swift tempo by her side as she dashed from the room.

"She's looking better," Neville said to Remus. "She's hardly using the cane anymore."

"Healer Fondorn is confident that she'll grow out of its use."

"Really?"

"Oh yes," Remus smiled at the boy. "Fondorn thinks all she needs is hard work like Harry's and she'll be able to walk on that leg again without trouble."

Harry kept his face turned to his plate. _So _that's_ what's wrong with her_, Harry stifled a mental sigh. _I've been far too mean to her_. He pushed the last of his meal to the side and looked up.

"Madam Pomfrey said Ginny would never be able to walk normally again," Neville said.

"Well, Healer Fondorn is a well respected Healer," Remus spread his hands and shrugged. "Madam Pomfrey – Poppy is a dear woman, but she is hardly a Healer."

"Of course," Neville laid his fork and knife aside. His plate was clean of all food. "Harry," he turned. "Want to show me around?"

"Why don't we get you into your room first?" He offered instead.

Neville nodded and rose. "Of course. Gran said she'd send the baggage through with a house elf."

"You have one?"

"Sort of." Neville joined Harry at the dining room entrance.

"Can we go, Sirius?" Harry remembered to ask. It was something both adults were trying to pound into his skull, along with other things. _Manners and etiquette were easier to learn at the Malfoys_, he sighed.

"It's may I, and you may," Sirius waved them off. "Go, have fun. And remember what we've talked about Harry!"

Harry felt his smile go stiff on his face. "Of course," he said to his godfather. He turned to Neville. "Your room's this way," he said and headed for the hall.

qpqp

With the door shut behind them and a silencing charm cast with a wand Harry had never seen before, Neville leaned up against the wall and stared at him.

"What in the name of Merlin have you gotten yourself into, Harry?"

Harry collapsed into the stuffed chair near the fireplace. Every room in the Black Manor had a fireplace. It was a little daunting. "It's a mess," he said. "A bloody, ugly mess."

"I have some things for you," Neville pushed away from the wall and opened his trunk. The clink of vials reached Harry's ears.

"You didn't…"

Neville's grin appeared through the fall of loose hair around his face. "Blaise and Draco are writing each other every day." He stood with a grunt and put the handful of vials on the low table in front of Harry. "I've got a check list from Healer Fabing. They've filled me in on what they could. I have the ingredients for other potions but…" Neville was cut off by Harry's arms wrapping tight around his neck.

"Harry?"

He couldn't speak. Tears were too close to the surface. "I…I'm glad you're here, Neville. You have no idea."

A tentative hand patted his back. "I should have come sooner."

"Don't – just don't. You're here now. Thank you, thank you so much."

Neville let a hand rest in the middle of Harry's thin back. "It's the least I could do, mate." He pulled away, reaching for the nest of notes Draco had sent by owl post. "I've got a ton of mail for you, too."

"You _do_?" Harry all but snatched the letters from Neville's hands. He felt like a fool, holding them tight to his chest. Neville smiled at him.

"I'd be the same way if Blaise's mail was kept from me." He frowned and glanced at Harry. "I…Will it be, since Blaise's, you know, a _Slytherin_?"

"You caught that," Harry wrinkled his nose.

"I did."

Harry put the letters into his lap, his thumb stroking over the bold script on the front of the letters. "I don't know what's wrong with him. It's like he's forgotten we were ever resorted into Slytherin. Even Ginny's starting to act that way."

"She is?"

"Yeah." Harry rubbed at his forehead. "Although I think I figured it out at lunch as to why. That _Healer_," Harry spat out the word, "He's a real piece of work."

"I gathered as much." Neville was taking down short notes on a blank piece of paper. "Are you having fevers?"

"No, but I can't tell if it's because I'm not sick or if it's because of the Pepper-Up Potions they're giving me."

Neville's glance was sharp. "Healer Fabing says you shouldn't be on those."

"I shouldn't be on potions that say they're one thing and are really the other."

Neville closed his eyes for a moment. "They're drugging you?"

"Not anymore."

He met an inquisitive stare.

"I'm throwing them up," he said shortly. "Don't," he held up a hand at Neville's disturbed expression. "I know it's bad. Believe me, I know it's bad. But I…the potions were making me feel weird. Really weird. Like a zombie that would do anything that people told me to do."

"That's…like Imperio."

"It doesn't feel like the curse," Harry chewed on his lower lip. "It just makes my mind cloudy. Really cloudy, like I've had too much firewhiskey."

"Have they noticed that you've stopped taking it?"

"Not that I can see. And they would have said something if they had noticed. No," he shook his head. "They stopped testing me once I did what they said for a week without complaining."

"That's…awful, Harry."

"I don't like it here," it came out without thought. He blushed and looked away. "It's awful, isn't it? I've been dreaming to get here ever since I learned about Sirius. And now that I'm here, I'm an ungrateful brat who hates what they're doing and…"

"Harry." Neville's touch made him jump. "You've got two more weeks." Neville's eyes were kind. "Believe me…I think I know, a little bit, about what's going on. I'll stay these last two weeks. Everything will be fine. Then we'll be back at Hogwarts, and we'll have the rest of the school year to figure out what's going on."

"You…know?" Harry felt hope stir in his heart.

"Something's…_wrong_," Neville nodded. "The plants are dying, Harry. It's like winter is already here. Draco's letters to Blaise haven't been very informative, since well, you know," they shared a look. "But I know enough that you saw something and that Draco's been working like mad to figure out a way to get to you."

"He is? Really?"

"Yeah."

Harry swallowed down a rush of feelings. "That's…good. Real good." He remembered the letters in his hands. "Can I…Can I leave these with you? I…I'm afraid if Sirius finds them…"

"They search your room?"

"Not that I can tell, but I'm learning to be paranoid." His fingers tightened on them. He really wanted to read them, but… "Are those potions from Professor Snape?"

"Yes," Neville turned back to the paper in front of him. "I've got Dreamless Sleep, a couple calming potions, and something for your throat that Healer Fabing wanted you to start taking…" The afternoon light waned as the boys bent over the long line of potions on the table. Harry kept Draco's letters tight in his hands the whole time. Something hard in the center of his chest was dissolving with every word Neville spoke. He had a friend. Neville understood. He would be okay. They would all be okay. They could do this. They would be fine.

Harry's smiles were genuine for the first time in a long while.

End Chapter Twenty-One


	22. Chapter 22: Harry and Ginny

Chapter Twenty-Two: Harry and Ginny

Diagon Alley was awash in noise and color. Neville stayed close to Harry's side, letting the smaller boy fist a hand in the back of his jumper when people knocked into them from all sides. The potions that Healer Fabing had sent with Neville had helped Harry tremendously; the shakes, while not vanished, had subsided to the point where Harry did not have to worry about keeping his hands hidden at all times. The weakness in his legs was fading bit by bit, something that the Blacks took all credit for.

Harry let them.

The days with Neville in the Black Manor when much smoother than when Harry was alone. The ex-Gryffindor was good at finding ways of directing attention away from subjects that Harry did not want the family to dwell on – a talent, Neville had confided to Harry, that he'd learned when his family would pester him about his magical abilities.

It was less than a week until Hogwarts started. There was a dearth of students flooding the alley. Sirius had an arm around Ginny's shoulders, beaming at any and all who would look in their direction. His pride seemed to radiate from his skin.

The night before was Neville's first introduction to Healer Fondorn. The Healer had barely looked at the other boy, spending most of his glare on Harry instead. His improvement was credited to the Healer's fortitude and correct assessment of Harry's 'condition'. He was warned to stay away from the Malfoys and all things _gloomy_ in the coming months, to make sure he did not return to his previous ways of thinking. Ginny's knee had been examined as well, but to Harry's inexperienced eye, it seemed like the man poked at the joint a few times and spent most of his attention on how Sirius was taking the news.

The pronouncement of Ginny's healing ligaments was met with joy and celebration. Harry and Neville had hung back from the tearful affair. Bill had been fire-called and told the news. Sirius had swept Ginny off her feet and off to the stables, where he declared she could have a pick of all the new horses they were to get in the coming year. Harry had watched them go in silence.

A burst of music from one of the shops jarred Harry from his thoughts. His hand, buried in the back of Neville's jumper, tightened. The other boy leaned into his space, bumping their shoulders together. When they were back at school, Harry promised himself to find something nice to do for Neville and Blaise as soon as he could. He didn't deserve such friends.

"All right, kiddos and not-so kiddos," Sirius flashed Remus a grin. "What's first? Ice cream? The Quidditch shop? Clothes?" He nudged Ginny's elbow.

"Books," Harry spoke up. Sirius wrinkled his nose.

"Come now, Harry! That's the _last_ thing James would have done! I know," the animagus stopped in the middle of the street. "Let's eat!"

"But we've just had breakfast…" Harry could see the sign for the bookstore just past his godfather's shoulders.

"No! Absolutely not!" Sirius grabbed Harry's arm and hauled him forward in a half hug, half drag. "We're going to go eat, because _everyone_ knows that young wizards need to eat almost every other hour! It's practically law!"

Harry gritted his teeth together and let the older man lead them away. The dream from the night before still lingered in his mind, the sharp colors of the sign almost bleeding out onto the sidewalk. There was something he needed from that store. Something important that had to happen, but he did not know what.

qpqpqpqp

It had been a long day. Remus and Sirius' pockets were fairly bulging from the purchases they had made. Ginny had gotten a whole new wardrobe for the school year. Harry had tried to get out of the exhaustive fitting, but had been over ruled. He didn't like most of the choices, and when he did try to speak up for something, he was shot down by Ginny's girlish exasperation. _No_, he was told. _Brown is not in this season. Try the sepia. It's all the rage_!

Harry thought sepia looked a lot like brown.

Their last stop was the bookstore. The sign loomed large in his field of vision. Shivers worked their way down his back and goose flesh stood out on his arms. _Something_ was going to happen.

They entered into controlled chaos. Students Harry recognized bustled around the store – some of them even recognized him and stopped to say hello. He could not remember most of their names. The cheerful exchanges did nothing to quell the rising feeling of _intent_ that was hovering in his mind. He wondered when…

"Harry!"

He turned, heart jumping into his throat. Seamus stood behind him, a shop apron on and a load of dusty books in his hand. Neville turned with Harry, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hello there, Seamus," Neville reached out and clapped the other boy on the shoulder.

"Hold these!" Seamus thrust the books at Neville and all but tackled Harry. "It's good to see you, mate! We were so worried!"

Harry let out an embarrassing squeak. Seamus laughed and let him go. "Seamus," he said after catching his breath. The feeling of _intent_ had gathered close and was buzzing in his head. "What are you doing here?"

"Me? I work here." The boy struck a pose. "Been working here the whole summer, I have. Put away quite a nice penny too," he winked. The jovial smile faded at the edges as he leaned in close. "Look, I know it's been mad this summer. I've been here in the center of it. Sasha's rented a room here too. We've been reading up on some stuff."

The _intent_ bloomed and vanished, leaving Harry shaken. His knees went out from under him. It was Neville's quick catch that saved him from falling into an embarrassed bundle on the floor.

"Harry?" Neville's voice was pitched low.

"It's – I had a dream, Neville," Harry ran a hand over his face. "I had to come here. It might have something to do with Seamus, but I don't…"

"Harry? Hey there, kiddo, you okay?" Sirius' booming voice broke in. Harry resisted the urge to swear and stomp his foot like a child.

"I've got it, Harry." Neville passed his hold to Seamus and turned to the approaching animagus. "Harry? He's fine – caught me, actually. We almost went down like a stack of bowling pins." Neville's blush was a fine touch. "Mr. Black –,"

"Come now, Neville. It's Sirius."

"Ah, yes, Sirius, I was wondering about – well, you know." Neville leaned forward. "Your _ability_," he gave the man wide eyes.

Sirius lit up with excitement. "Really? How wonderful. Come this way, my lad and we'll have a nice discussion, yes we will." Sirius had a hand around Neville's wrist as he led the younger wizard deeper into the store.

Harry let out a long breath. "I don't know how I'm going to repay him."

"Neville?"

"Yes."

"He's been helping you?"

"You have no idea." Harry shook the crowding thoughts away and turned back to Seamus. "You've been reading up on something with Sasha?"

"Yeah." The other boy was eyeing Harry. "Mate…you're shaking."

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It happens."

"A lot?"

"It's because…of the thing."

"…I thought that was taken care of."

"…How did you know about it?"

"Tabloids are full of information about you being misdiagnosed with all kinds of stuff and some bloke called Healer Fondorn reports have been leaked and that you might be unstable, until that was rebuffed and now you're fine and just a susceptible young man under the thump of tyrannical Slytherins," Seamus shrugged with a roll of his eyes. "You know how it goes."

Harry's nails cut into his palms. "I'm going to –," he snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. "There _are_…problems, but we can't talk about them here."

"What about Black?"

"He's part of the problem." Harry shook his head. "You got a place where we can talk?"

"Yeah, let me tell the manager I'm taking my break. Come on." Seamus led them away towards the cash register. Neither of them saw Ginny emerge from around a stack of books with a strange, worried frown on her face.

qpqpqpqp

Harry looked up at the soft knock. It was late; most of the household had gone to bed. Harry had stayed up, writing everything he could remember down in his notebook. The legends that Seamus and Sasha had come across were fascinating, but he had no way of knowing if any of it fit until he got back to school.

The knock came again. Harry stuffed the book under his pillow and hid the ink and well in the bedside table. "Come in?" It was rare anyone waited for his approval to enter in the Black Manor.

Ginny's face appeared around the edge of the door. "May I come in, Harry?"

"Sure."

She slid into the room. Her cane was nowhere to be seen. She closed the door behind her with a soft click of the latch. They stared at each other.

"What's wrong?"

She leaned back against the door and licked her lips. She would not meet his eyes. "You've been lying to us again, haven't you?"

Harry felt the muscles in his shoulders grow taut with tension. "Ginny?"

"All this time, when we thought you were getting better, you were lying, weren't you?" Ginny stayed near the door. "You still think you're sick."

Harry set his jaw and reminded himself about his promise to be nicer to the girl. "Ginny…look at me. Remember how I was at the end of the school year?"

"I remember."

"Do you remember what Madam Pomfrey said?"

"But Healer Fondorn…"

"Healer Fondorn is a fool," he snarled. "He's been leaking reports about what goes on at the house for everyone to read in the tabloids!"

"Harry," Ginny's scandalized yelp tried to silence him. "He would never do that! He's good, he's _really_ good – he even knew that my knee was going to get better and –"

"And I bet you can barely walk on it right now."

Her face darkened with a violent blush. "I'm working on it."

"You're going to damage the ligaments even more."

"You can't _think_ that way, Harry!"

"I can _think_ any damn way I want!"

"You still think something's wrong with you!"

"I don't have to _think_ it, I know it!" Harry's palm slapped down on his comforter. "I dream it, every night Ginny! I see things that will happen, that can happen, that _might_ happen, and I have to remember them because it _might_ have something to do with what's going on with all the murders!"

"But they have nothing to do with you!"

"Yes, Ginny. They do."

"Sirius was right," Ginny whispered. "You are going mad."

The silence was immediate and thick.

"…What?" Harry asked.

Ginny pushed away from the door, taking a few hesitant steps into the room. "When Healer Fondorn arrived, I told him about your muggle relatives," she said.

Harry's jaw ached. "You _what_?"

"They said – they said that the kind of negative behavior you showed was reinforced by negative rewards…or something like that," she waved a hand away. "Healer Fondorn said you probably had no choice as to whether or not you'd go barmy one day, but if we caught it soon enough we'd be able to stave it off for a while."

"I'm not _mad_, Ginny."

"But Harry…" Her eyes were bright with tears. "All of this, all of it, Healer Fondorn expected. The lying and the protests, he said – he said you would even _believe _it since it would make everything in your mind okay. That because of what those muggles did to you, that you would never be completely sane and that if we could give you a stable home life, with _structure _and _discipline_ – and maybe I should have told Sirius sooner about all this…"

"Ginny. Ginny, wait." Harry felt panic swell in his throat. "Just…stop, all right? I'm not mad. I'm not lying." The girl's rising hysteria hovered right before tears. If she started sobbing it would alert Sirius and then he'd be in a world of trouble. "Look…just give me some time. Seamus…he's a good guy, okay? He – we're just talking about some work we started last year. Remember about our research with the gods?"

"…Research?"

"Yes, you remember that? When we did the rituals and everything?"

"…Yes."

"Well, there was a bunch of old legends that we were meaning to look up and check out, just to make sure we weren't doing anything bad. That's what we were talking about, that's all."

"But you just said…about the murders…"

"Well, some of the old legends are pretty bloody. We just want to make sure we know who's who."

"But you said it had something to do with you."

"Well, since we – all of us, freed the gods, I guess you're right. It's not just my fault, it's your fault too." He hated the sudden stricken look on her face.

"What…what a horrible thing to say."

"Look, it's something we're looking into." Harry tried to bury the guilt that burned the back of his throat. "If Seamus' research is right, then we did nothing wrong. There's been no bloody mass murders in the name of a god on English soil that we can find. So it's probably the work of crazy wizards or a cult of muggles or something."

"But…your dreams…"

"You're probably right about them," he waved it off. "Dreams just help me put information together. Random bits of things we learn coming together in crazy ways. Maybe they'll help with something, maybe they won't. But if I keep a record of them, then maybe I can learn something."

"…But…"

"I'm fine, Ginny. Really. Haven't I been doing better?"

"But you don't like Healer Fondorn."

"I hate him," he said it without spite. "I don't like him, he makes me nervous and now I know why."

"But…he's just worried for you, Harry. Everything that's been done has been done for _your_ well being."

"And you've been left out, is that it?"

She recoiled a step. "What?"

"I didn't ask Sirius to worry over me like a mother hen."

"Harry, that's an _awful_ thing to say about Father."

"You're calling him that, now?"

"…I try. I can't settle on Father, Dad or Da. None of them seem…right."

Harry shrugged and looked away. "It's up to you."

"You could call him dad too, you know."

"He's not my father."

"It's the thought that counts."

"Sirius knows who my father is."

"Well, he just doesn't want you to forget James."

Harry turned back to her. "I never knew him, Ginny." He held up a hand to stall her protest. "Look…do you believe me or not? I'm not mad, I'm not _going_ mad and I'm not lying. All of this just has to do with research from last year. _And_ the OWLs we forgot to take, which I haven't been able to study for at all."

Ginny was quiet for a long, long moment. "I should tell Sirius what's happened," she finally said. "Healer Fondorn is _not_ wrong. There is something wrong with you, Harry, up here." She touched her temple. "I kept quiet last year when Pansy and Millicent wanted me to tell them about it. Well, mostly quiet. I should have spoken up then."

"Maybe you should have," Harry nodded. "Then I wouldn't have had to go back to the Dursleys. That would have helped a lot."

Ginny spread her hands out in front of her. "The Dursleys – you always said they never harmed you. But they did and now it's affecting you."

"No, I don't think it is anymore."

"It _is_." Ginny chewed on her lower lip. "I…I'm not going to tell Sirius. Not now. If – If what you're staying is true, then fine. It's just research. But…I'll be watching, Harry." She said it with a heavy sigh. "I – I want to believe you're okay. I want to believe that you're not mad. So I'll stay quiet. For now."

"Thanks, Ginny." Harry felt his throat close at the words. She shook her head and stayed quiet, limping from the room with obvious pain. As the door closed behind her, Harry thought he heard the shattering of something that might have been friendship. Might have been family.

Might have been nothing at all.

End Chapter Twenty-Two


	23. Chapter 23: The Headmaster

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Headmaster

Harry was packed to leave the night before the train to Hogwarts was scheduled to depart. Nervous energy buzzed through his veins. It had been two days since Ginny's nighttime confession to him – things between them were tense and quiet. Remus was the only adult to pick up on it. His response had been not what Harry had been expecting.

"Did you have a fight?" The werewolf had asked over Sunday breakfast after the others had left.

Harry had kept his head down, chin to his chest.

"Harry…all families fight. You'll have a spat, be mad at each other for a while, and then things will go back to normal. It happens. She's your sister now, remember that."

Harry had stayed quiet, unwilling to break the older man's quiet assurance. Things were _not_ all right, they were _not_ family, and…He had pushed the thoughts away. They did nothing for his mood and only served to make Sirius that more suspicious of him.

He was _really_ looking forward to Hogwarts again.

They had arrived at King's Cross Station with a mess of trunks and a new owl for Ginny – Hedwig, Harry realized with a sudden, guilty start, was still at the Malfoy's. Neville had found the long line of trolleys they normally used. Harry stepped up after Neville had secured his, hand wrapping around the plastic-and-metal handlebar before Sirius stopped him.

"Huh?" He ran Sirius' words through his mind again. "But _why_?"

"We have a discussion with the Headmaster that needs to happen now, Harry." Sirius had his hands planted on his hips. "Go see Neville off – on _this_ side of the barrier, if you please. Then we'll go."

"But…"

"Don't argue, Harry."

He gave the animagus a dirty look, but allowed Neville to pull him away.

"Here," Neville slid a note into Harry's pocket, away from prying eyes. "That's the last of the letters I got from Blaise. I'll see you at school, all right?"

"Yeah," Harry gripped Neville's arm. "Thanks. You have no idea how much I owe you."

"Don't worry about it," Neville replied with a wink. He turned with a laugh, waving at the Blacks, before ambling off with his trolley towards the barrier.

"We have to go now, Harry."

He turned to face Sirius. "I thought the only way to Hogwarts was by train?"

"We're going by port key." Sirius herded them off to a shadowy corner. Harry felt his feet stick to the floor.

"Sirius…"

"Harry, come now. We have to go."

"But…"

"Harry Potter, it's _just_ a port key!" Sirius frowned at him, eyes sharp. "Healer Fondorn said it was just silly for a wizard to be afraid of something to normal to our world. Now, come along."

Harry could not hide a flinch from the man's eyes. "I…"

"Harry, I wonder sometimes what your father would say if he could see you now," Sirius said with a harsh sigh. He grabbed Harry's arm, even as Harry was too frozen to move at the words, and activated the port key. The world dropped out from under him. Panic crawled up his bones.

He landed in a heap just outside Hogwarts' gates. Sirius was standing above him, the frown still in place.

"Come along, Harry." He had his hands on his hips.

It took Harry a few times, but he got to his feet. He could feel Ginny's stare on his back. Remus hovered, ignoring Sirius' snapped orders to leave Harry alone.

"I'm fine, just fine," he told the werewolf. "Sorry, just lost my footing."

"See? I told you he was fine. Healer Fondorn said it would take a few times for him to get used to it, that's all."

Harry kept his head down to hide his eyes. He trailed behind them up the long slope. It was a long walk towards the castle. The grounds already looked barren. He could see smoke twisting its way up out of Hagrid's cottage. The Forbidden Forest was quiet and still, the thick shadows barring eyes from peering into its depths.

Hogwarts loomed in front of him. As they walked across the lawn to the main doors, Harry could not help but remember the battle that had raged there, just months before. The sound of the mob, the way the hounds had howled for his blood. The explosion of fires throughout the fighters. The memories sent shudders down his spine.

Ginny, he noted when he looked up, was having a reaction as well. But Sirius had put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to his side. Her cane had come out when Harry had not been looking, the soft thump-swish of it against the ground the only words between them. Remus was on the girl's other side, one hand stroking back her hair and resting on her shoulder.

Harry wrapped his arms around his middle and ducked his head once again.

They were not stopped by any of the teachers on their march to the Headmaster's office. Harry had hoped to at least see Professor Snape in one of the long, dark halls that led off their main path, but he caught no sight of the man at all.

The gargoyle was already to one side as they approached. Sirius went first, Ginny, Remus and then Harry. He took a deep breath, settled one hand on the iron rail and stepped onto the spiraling staircase.

Sirius was settled in front of Dumbledore's desk when Harry slipped in through the door. The Headmaster's twinkling blue eyes settled on him for a brief moment. Something in Harry's chest loosened by a few degrees.

"Sirius, Remus." Albus leaned back in his seat. "So good to see you again. Miss Ginny, Harry," he added with a nod.

"We're here to get them resorted," Sirius said without preamble.

The Headmaster blinked. "I'm sorry to hear that, Sirius."

"They have no business being in Slytherin anymore. They should go back to Gryffindor, where they belong."

"Ah, but that is the House that petitioned them to leave."

"They petitioned Harry to leave," Sirius' hand cut through the air. "Not Ginny. She made her choice voluntarily. It was brave of her, very, very brave, but she's done her duty. She's made her point. There's no reason to keep her in the snake's den."

"And what of Harry?" Albus linked his hands together in his lap.

"We can put him in a different House. Just not Slytherin."

"There is no shame in Slytherin House, Sirius."

"I will _not_ have Harry in that lying, conniving House one more day, Albus! They almost ruined him!"

"Ruined him, my boy?"

"They've fed him _potions_, Albus, lies, whispers, _everything_ to make Harry think he's some kind of invalid! They're trying to destroy him! Snivilus –,"

"Sirius." The Headmaster's rebuke rocked the animagus back on his heels.

"_Fine._ Snape. Snape's been corrupting him!"

"Nonsense. Severus would never do such a thing."

"Sure, and we all know what kind of stand up wizard _Snivilus_ is."

"_Sirius_."

"He was a Death Eater at one point, and sure, he's changed sides. He fought on the winning team, so what? He's still trying to get at me, Headmaster. He's still running some feud with James' memory. It would please him like nothing else to ruin James' only son!"

"Severus would never do such a thing." Harry found the Headmaster's gaze on him. "Severus would do anything to keep the boy from harm." He felt something warm bloom in his chest.

"But Harry's _mine_!"

The feeling withered and died at Sirius' shouted words.

"Harry," the Headmaster rumbled, "is not a possession."

"Of course not!" Sirius' arms flailed in the air. "But he's _James_' son, he's _my_ godson and no one else's. _I_ get to chose what's right for him, not some dried up old snake who didn't know how to care for someone if it came in a potions text with step by step directions and was tied up in a bow!"

"That is very harsh, Sirius."

"I want them resorted, Albus. I want them out of that House."

There was a brief moment of utter stillness. Then Albus rose to his feet, his power wrapped around him like a cloak. Harry could almost see it, the way the magic folded around him, crowding the air around the surprisingly thin body, giving the illusion of girth and weight.

"I cannot do that," Albus' voice held an undercurrent of power. "The law forbids it. Harry has been resorted according to ancient law. Ginny has chosen her new place according to ancient law. There is nothing _I_ can do to change that."

"But!"

"No, Sirius," the Headmaster gazed on him with sorrowful eyes. "Of all the things we learned in this last year, I would have thought that Slytherin House's bravery and sense of duty would have impressed themselves upon you. That House, which took Harry in with open arms when all others turned their backs on him – you would take him from such a place?"

"But they're trying to _ruin_ him!"

"Nonsense, Sirius." The Headmaster rounded the edge of the desk. "Harry is a fine boy. He has come through fire once before," the blue eyes met green. "He will whether this fire storm as well."

Sirius looked between them, jaw working in silence. "…Fine. _Right_. Yes, of course." The animagus shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "He's – Harry's a good boy. He'll be fine. What am I thinking?" He let out a short laugh. "Ginny…are you sure about Ginny? The cold down there, according to Healer Fondorn, will not be good for her knee, especially if she's to continue to work on getting it better."

"I'm sure this Healer Fondorn can forward his notes to Poppy to make sure Miss Black can continue her rehabilitation," Albus inclined his head. "That would be a wonderful idea."

"Of course!" Sirius turned to Ginny. "Hear that? You'll be fine! And we'll see about those laws," he tugged the girl into a large hug.

Albus was mere feet from Harry's spot near the door. Harry had tucked his hands inside of his sleeves, curling his fingers into the stiff fabric. He could not meet the older wizard's gaze.

"Now, if that was all," Albus cleared his throat. "We should let the children get resettled into their rooms. Minerva?" The older witch stepped into the room. Harry glanced at her face. The Gryffindor Head of House was blank of expression, though her jaw seemed set and her hands folded tightly at her waist.

"Good afternoon, Albus," Professor McGonagall nodded to the older man.

"Why don't you say goodbye then, Sirius." Albus beamed a smile at the man. His eyes were hidden by his half-moon glasses. "Do you have their things?" Remus nodded and began to unpack his pockets. Professor McGonagall helped him unshrink the lot of it.

"But – but…" Sirius' shoulders drooped. He looked down at the top of Ginny's head. "I have to give her up now?"

"Just for now, Sirius. She will always be your daughter."

"…Yes. Yes." Remus put a hand on Sirius' shoulder. He flashed the werewolf a shaky smile. "Right." He pulled away from the girl. "I'll see you at Christmas hols, right? And you'll write, every week, you hear me?"

"Of course!" She buried her face against the man's side and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"I'm so proud of you, Ginny," Sirius said into the silence. "I really am." He pulled away after a moment and kissed her forehead. He turned her to Remus and looked for Harry. He approached, but stopped a foot away.

"Harry…kiddo…" The animagus sighed. "We want what's best for you, you know that." He knelt in front of Harry, hands settled on his knee. "We love you, Harry. We do. It's just…hard sometimes, when you're…" Sirius cut a glance towards the Headmaster. "We'll…talk, okay? Write to me. You want me to have Healer Fondorn to come here?"

"What? No, no," Harry shook his head. "I – Madam Pomfrey would never forgive you."

Sirius laughed and the tension lines around his eyes and mouth faded. "Of course, of course." He reached out and patted Harry's upper arm. "Be _good_, kiddo," he said with a look. Harry, unable to speak by the sudden lump in his throat, merely nodded.

Remus' hug was brief, but real. Then the two men were out of the door and clattering down the stairs. They could hear Sirius' elaborate sniffles and wails of how they were just _growing up too fast, Remus! Where'd the time go?_ Harry stifled the urge to roll his eyes.

"Come, Ms. Black," Harry glanced at McGonagall's cool tone. "I'll show you down to the Slytherin dormitories."

"But…Harry…"

"The Headmaster has some things to discuss with Harry," the older woman caught his eye. The odd gleam in hers was unsettling. He frowned, but the expression passed too quick for him to recognize.

"…Will you be okay, Harry?" Ginny took a step towards him.

"I'm fine, Ginny." He forced a smile onto his face. "Go on, get settled. I hear the dorms change every year, isn't that neat?"

"…Really?" Interest lit her eyes.

"Come along, Ms. Black." Professor McGonagall swept from the room, leaving no time for further talk.

Harry watched them go with his smile sliding from his face. He felt the Headmaster step up behind him. The warm, solid weight of the man's hand on his shoulder was enough to dissolve the strangling knot in his throat.

The door to the Headmaster's office shut with the quiet click of the lock sliding in place.

There was a long moment of silence. Harry curled his hands around his forearms and turned to face the older wizard.

"Oh, Harry my child," the Headmaster sighed. "I am so sorry."

It was enough to cause Harry's eyes to tear. He ducked his head, letting his bangs fall in front of his face. He drew in a long, shuddering breath.

Warm hands settled on his shoulders, drawing him into an enveloping hug. Harry let his forehead rest against the broad, ancient chest.

"I have known Sirius for a long, long time, my boy," Dumbledore spoke into the silence. "He has ever meant well, but sometimes he cannot understand that the world he would like to exist is not reality. In his mind, James is still part of this world, still a part of Sirius' life. Your father was ever his grounding stone, and without James, Sirius has always been a little lost."

"…I'm not James."

"I know that, and there is no reason for anyone to ever tell you to _be_ James Potter. You have to be yourself, Harry. There is no one else you can be."

"Tell that to Sirius."

"I may at that."

Harry drew away. Dumbledore ran a hand over Harry's hair, pushing it away from his eyes. "I have something for you," he told the Headmaster.

"Yes?"

Harry drew out the folded bits of paper from his pocket. The heavy creases quartered the sheets, but it had been the only way for him to get the information out to the Headmaster. He didn't want to give up the notebook with the originals. Not yet. Draco had to see them first.

"I've been having visions," he sniffed and wiped his nose with the edge of his sleeve. He held out the sheets. "This is what I could remember. Draco probably has a list of things that happened over the summer, but this is what happened when I was…away."

"The Malfoys have indeed kept in contact with me," Albus took the papers with a steady hand. "They have also been quite diligent in asking for reports on your own welfare."

"I…they did?" Harry risked a glance at the older man.

"Why don't you tell him yourself, Severus," the Headmaster spoke to someone behind Harry.

He whirled, finding the Potions Master framed in the doorway to the Headmaster's office. Snape stepped into the room, hands hidden by his billowing sleeves. Harry was struck by the urge to run to the man, but fear glued his feet to the floor.

"Mr. Potter," the Potions Master flicked a glance at Albus. "…Harry."

Air began to move in Harry's lungs once more. He felt the tension sag from his shoulders. "Hello, sir."

Dark eyes seemed to study his face. "You are not well."

"I'm much better, sir. The potions Neville brought did wonders."

"…I see." Snape stepped into the room, his robe rustling about his legs. The door swung shut behind him. He stopped short of Harry, almost towering over him. "It seems as though I must thank that blasted Mr. Longbottom when I see him."

Harry felt something bubble up in his chest. It almost felt like a laugh. "I think if you did that, he'd faint dead away."

"All the better then."

Harry's hands flexed at his side. The urge to hug the man was stronger. With some difficulty he turned to face the Headmaster. The blue, twinkling eyes seemed to see right through him.

"Harry," Albus smiled at them both. "I'm sure you and Severus have much to talk about." The smile dimmed. "However, there are a few things we must speak of before I can let you go."

"Sir?" The warmth in Harry's chest grew tight.

"Have a seat, my boy," Albus moved behind his desk and sat with a sigh. Harry took one of the chair opposite of him. Severus stood behind him, close enough so Harry could almost see the man from the corner of his eye.

"Harry," Albus continued. "I cannot tell you how sorry I am for all that you have gone through." Albus leaned forward, lacing his hands together on the desk. "And all that you will have to go through in the coming months."

"Sir?"

"I'm sure you are aware of the…political maneuvering that is going on in the wizarding world?"

"Yes."

"It cannot be helped, at the moment." Albus shook his head with a sigh. "Scrimgeour was our best chance at having a candidate that would openly accept the old ways and the old gods. With the murders and the confusion that have happened, however, our best hope at changing the current policies within the Ministry have been forced into an uncomfortable corner."

Harry frowned, his thumb tapping out an uneven rhythm on his thigh. "I don't understand, sir."

"It is a long tale," Albus sat back, resting his hands on his middle. "One that started long before the first muggle world war. The impetus of change has never come swiftly to the wizarding world, Harry. We exist in clothes and culture more than a century behind the muggle world. Some say that it is our culture to do this, to deny the other world that exists beyond our wards and our small corners of the world." Albus' long eyebrows drew together. "That, however, is a fallacy."

Harry glanced up and back at his Potions professor. "Do you believe this too, sir?"

Severus shifted his stance and glanced down at him. "I do not agree with all that the Headmaster and his…other interested parties propose. I do not think that the muggle world and the wizarding world would ever be able to coexist peacefully." Severus gave the older wizard a sharp look. "But others would overrule me on this regard."

"So you think we should stay apart?" Harry turned in his seat to get a better look at the man.

Severus shook his head. "No and yes, Harry. It is a complicated question that has a complicated answer, if it even has an answer."

"Severus is right," Albus said, drawing Harry's gaze. "Our ideal of uniting the wizarding and the muggle world does not have a happy or easy answer. I do not think there is even a single answer, but perhaps a series of answers that may lead to a better understanding between our two worlds."

"I don't understand what this has to do with me or the visions I have," Harry looked between the two older men.

"Harry," Albus leaned forward once more. "You have an ability that has not existed in either of our worlds for millennia. In this, you are more vital to the events of the future than you have ever been before."

"Not again," Harry couldn't help the exclamation.

"Ah, my boy. It seems as though fate is not done with you yet." Albus' gaze flicked to Severus and back to Harry again. "The rebirth of the old gods is perhaps the first of the answers that needed to take place. In any event, they have drawn both worlds together in a common cause; the gods have woken, they walk the earth again and none can deny that claim."

"Some try," Harry retorted.

"They are blinded by their fears."

"Their blindness is –," Harry snapped his jaw shut and turned his face away.

"Harry?" Severus laid a hand on his shoulder.

"What do you need me to do, Headmaster?" He spoke with his eyes closed.

He could hear the old man's heavy sigh. "Would that I could give you a lifetime of peace and happiness, Harry." He opened his eyes and turned his gaze towards the Headmaster. "I would have you report to me all the visions you have. You have the ability to see the future, both what will come and what may come. Both are important to me."

"Why?"

"To know what might come can change the minds of those who think they have the power to control the flow and thought of the world." Albus' expression became pained. "It is not a pretty thought, nor one most would think an old man like me should have." He shook his head. "But this is the price of power, Harry. If you do nothing, then events will slip through your fingers and ruin the world. If you do too much, you become that which everyone fears, the dictator and the tyrant. I wanted to be neither, but at times one is forced to use what power one has to change the world for the better."

"Isn't that what Voldemort wanted to do?" Harry challenged.

The unexpected smile on the Headmaster's face rocked him back in his seat. "And now you begin to understand, Harry. History is written by the victors. In this case, I do believe the world is a better place without Tom Riddle riding its helm. I do not know if I would be any better of a pilot, but," he speared Harry with a glance. "I try to make things better. I have always tried to make things better in this world, and much to my sorrow, some of these attempts have cost the lives of people I love, people I respected and people I was supposed to protect. That is a cost, that is the result that I must always live with."

Harry swallowed and looked away from the crystal clear gaze. "Does it always have to be like this?"

"Yes."

He wanted to flinch away from the clear truth that spoke in the Headmaster's tone. "It's not fair," he said.

"Life has never been fair, Harry." Albus sounded tired. "But those who can, do try to make it fair for those who have no power to change the world on their own."

With that, Harry knew he was hooked. "I'll keep writing down my dreams," he said. He looked up to meet the blue eyes of his Headmaster. "There is a presence that is moving in the world right now, sir. A bad presence, but I don't know what it is, or who. It caused the murders on the beach, and it'll cause more. That much I do know."

"Thank you, Harry." Albus rose from behind his chair. "You do not know how much it pains me to ask you of this."

Harry rose from his own seat. The Potions Master's hand fell away. "You're right, I don't," he told the old man. "And I don't want to know. Not right now." He turned to Severus. "May I go down to the dorms, please?"

"You may, Harry." Snape's hand moved at his side, but fell back before it could touch Harry's shoulder. "I will escort you there."

"Thank you, sir." Harry spared a glance at the Headmaster. "…Will it ever get better?" He lingered to ask.

Light gleamed against Albus' glasses. "To that we always endeavor, Mr. Potter."

Harry closed his eyes from a long moment, sighed and turned away. Severus followed at his side as they made their way down the revolving stairs and out into the hall.

The sound of the door closing behind them seemed loud in the silent office.

End Chapter Twenty-Three


	24. Chapter 24: Elsewhere

Chapter Twenty-Four: Elsewhere…

Crom Cruach leaned back against the molding chair and watched his Priest at work. The mortal was inches from death, the blood from the multiple wounds soaking the rotting wood and cloth around her. The rest of the family they had taken had died hours earlier; the woman, the mother, had held out the longest, fought the hardest, even when her husband sagged in his bonds, mind broken from the tortures they put him under.

Crom Cruach was bored.

The woman screamed, her bowles letting loose for the third time that evening. Urine splashed at his Priest's feet, defiling the once-holy ground even more. The desecrated altar of the One God's temple was awash in blood and other bodily fluids. They had ripped the girl-child's undeveloped womb from her body and forced her older brother to eat it; the mother had fought viciously then, but to no avail.

"Enough," the single word made the Priest freeze, then bow his head in acquiescence. The mortals were fun to play with, giving him a mere taste of the power his other prey had pushed into his veins like the sweetest of drugs.

The Priest grabbed the woman's hair and yanked her head back, slitting her throat with a sure hand and a sharp blade. The arch of arterial blood splashed into the air, blotting out the moon for a mere second, and then fell to the floor with a dirty, human splat.

Crom Cruach stretched back in his makeshift chair, the rotted remains of tapestries from the church cellar. Already the power from the massacre on the coast was receding; he needed a new rush of prayers, of blood, of sacrifices to his name. He needed more priests, more supplicants to worship his name.

Crom Cruach spread his arms wide and closed his eyes. The night's dark pulse swelled in his ears. He gathered a hard knot of power inside of his chest, curling it tighter and tighter until it beat out the words of his name like a devotional chant. He released it into the night, calling all the Dark, all the corrupt, all those who worshiped destruction to come and find him, to become his Priests, his followers, his beloved, desired disciples.

All over England, the huddled remains of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters stirred and took notice. Their Dark Marks throbbed in time to some pulse that was not their own. Their eyes turned to the west, to the ragged shores that faced Ireland's rocky beaches.

Crom Cruach had found his new disciples.

qpqpqpqp

Rufus Scrimgeour was tired.

He rested his elbows on his messy desk and cradled his head in his hands. The headache behind his eyes pounded in time with his pulse, even the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up straight. A shudder rippled over his skin, but the migraine gave him little time to take note of it.

The race was not going well. He had too many fires to put out with Potter's appearance, disappearance and the subsequent ravings of Black and his household Healer. Keeping the papers on topic, focused to the ideal points of the political race he wanted to be in the forefront of everyone's mind…that was almost impossible.

He lowered his hands and let his forehead rest against the cool wood of his desk. The stack of papers under his skin rustled as he moved to find a more comfortable spot. If his aide had not also been buried under a stack of paperwork, he would have foisted it all off onto the industrious young man and went to go speak to people on the streets, to further his agenda, to make them stop whispering about nonsense and to sit up and take heed of what was _really_ going on in Fudge's Ministry. Most days he felt like he was losing a hopeless race.

He needed Potter gone – or, well, not gone, but silent, away, _hidden_ perhaps, but he refused to fall to Fudge's thinking and lock the boy away in Azkaban. He was a better man than that, he had to believe that. But the truth remained; he needed the boy and his problems out of the spotlight. With the school term starting, he _had_ the perfect opportunity to keep the boy's movements silent and away from the public eye. But Rufus Scrimgeour was not a man moved by bribes or threats, no matter what the Headmaster called them.

_Still_, a reasonable voice protested in the back of his mind, _the old coot has a point. Tit for tat, he'll keep the boy away from the public and all you have to do is_…He closed his eyes against the thought. He didn't want to, he had _never_ wanted to, but he needed the Headmaster's support in this. He had no choice.

With a sigh, Rufus pushed himself up from his desk and studied the oh-so polite letter sitting in front of him. He found his quill and ink and penned a short note into the margin, signing his name hard enough to tear the parchment. He turned to the owl sitting at his sill and handed the creased letter back to it.

_For the good of the people_, he shook his head and turned back to his work. _Sometimes deals with the devil must be made_.

qpqpqpqp

Out in the Dark, in the Otherworld, a call winged through the night.

Gwenn froze in the middle of stirring a great pot of stew. The shutter to one of their windows flew open with a loud bang, startling the small host of children gathered around her hearth. Merle was close enough to secure it, but still, Gwenn's heart beat hard in her chest for a reason she could not name.

Elsewhere in the great, sprawling Dark, a figure tripped as it walked down a brightly lit Path that led to a noisy fair in the distance. The bright day, with the new-born sun of their world seemed to darken for a long second. The edges of the Path seemed to grow faint, bilious, as though the Dark was striving for a way to beat back the sunlight and the grass and all the life that had been restored to the once-somber lands. The selkie shuddered as he picked himself up from the Path, dusting the dirt from his clothes. The moment was over as soon as it came, but it left a cold ball of dread in his stomach that no amount of warm ale would loosen.

In a castle full of childish laughter, the sound of mirth fell silent as the call rolled over the sky. Erin stood on her bale of hay, her rough, wooden sword lax in her hand as she studied the bright blue sky. Goose flesh broke out over her arms at the faint memory that call brought forth. Her sword clattered to the ground as she jumped from the bale of hay, running for the wide open doors to the castle. The Winter King met her there, drawing her into his arms as he lifted her to his hip. They both studied the sky with eyes that held no laughter.

In the Dark the call flashed fast as lightning. The Morrigan screamed back a challenge to the sickening strike that spread over her skin. The scent was fresh. The scent was close. She would hunt it to the ends of the world and beyond. She would destroy it, crush it to mud and dust so that it never bothered her dream child again.

Somewhere in the mortal realm, a reborn god laughed as its Priest painted them both with the entrails of a fresh kill.

End Chapter Twenty-Four


	25. Chapter 25: Hogwarts Again

Chapter Twenty-Five: Hogwarts Again

Draco let the steward take his baggage and Harry's owl, giving the man a nice tip like he always saw his father give. Students and their families swirled around him, a constant flux of noise, laughter, and a few wailing tears in the bustling crowd. There seemed to be more muggleborn than ever, Draco noted with a frown.

The predominant colors of the station were still the Gryffindor red and gold, though a good swath of Ravenclaw blues and Hufflepuff yellows swirled about. Slytherin green was almost nowhere in sight, something which made Draco's stomach clench and knot.

_Where's Harry_? He tapped his foot against the ground, checking the large clock that was set up high on the wall. It was almost time for the train to pull out. Draco stood by the entrance to the rear end compartment, the one Slytherin had been using for years by the upper year students. Gryffindor always got the middle cars, Ravenclaw the front and the Hufflepuff students found seats where they could.

From the swirl of the crowd came a distinct laugh. Draco twitched. Pansy and Millicent emerged from the chaos like two goddesses on a rampaging high. There was nothing to duck behind.

"Draco!" Pansy's squeal could be heard the length of the platform. He braced himself.

The young woman threw herself at him. He caught her for politeness sake only. "Pansy, what are you…"

"Oh, Draco, it's lovely to see you too!" She kissed his cheek as she pulled back. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and scanned down the platform. "Think everyone heard me?"

"I think the muggles in London could have heard you."

"Then if Harry's here, he would have heard me too, right?"

He didn't know whether to smack her or hug her. "You're tan," he said instead. Millicent ambled up next to them, her long formal robes distinct against the rush of muggle clothing behind her.

"Yes, well, Mother and Father decided that I needed to go visit cousins in Sorrento," Pansy rolled her eyes. "I _told_ them I'd already made up my mind, but did they listen to me? Of course not…"

"Made up your mind?"

"Of course, silly."

Following Pansy's line of conversation sometimes took a map, a compass and a bottle of firewhiskey to understand. "Made up your mind for what?"

"The future!"

Draco resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What are we talking about?"

"She's not going to marry that Ravenclaw," Millicent chimed in. "She's decided to go to Paris after she graduates to study the fashion industry. Wizard _and_ muggle," Millicent added with a snort.

Draco blinked. "You're lucky your parents didn't send you to the moon, Pansy."

"Oh, please," the girl in question stomped her foot. "They're such _babies_."

Their conversation was cut off by the sudden appearance of a host of Gryffindor students. Draco narrowed his eyes at the display of solidarity, cupping one hand around Pansy's elbow to ease her behind him, taking point of their small circle.

Dean Thomas tilted his head back as he studied Draco up and down. "Looks like purebloods don't get very big anymore," he said.

It seemed to be a day for headaches; Draco felt the muscle in his jaw begin to twitch. "What do you want, Thomas?"

"Where's your little…friend, Malfoy?"

Draco balled his hands into fists. "You –"

"Are we missing something?" From behind the Gryffindors, a new voice spoke. The small crowd parted, revealing Blaise, Neville, Sasha and Seamus standing side by side.

"Seamus!" Dean's face took on a strange smile. "Not going over to the snakes, right?"

Seamus arched an eyebrow at the boy. "I don't see any snakes here," he made a show of peering around. "According to my gran, we had a man come years ago and charm 'em right out of the Isles. Ain't that right, Sasha?"

The girl at his side glowered at the Gryffindors. "I don't know, Seamus. These look pretty poisonous to me."

"Nothin' but garden snakes, I'm sure."

"Snakes…why you – your precious _Potter_ is a snake!" Dean growled out.

Seamus blinked back at him. "Well, since he's a Parslemouth, that might be halfway true. But he's still Harry," he added with a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "Why don't you all go on back down to the middle cars, then? We're about to leave."

The crowd of Gryffindors stirred around their new leader. Dean glowered some more, his cheeks puffing out with a bright blush, but he said nothing else as he turned on his heel and marched for the middle of the train.

"I," Draco began, "would like just one year of peace and quiet from the Gryffindors. Is that too much to ask?" He directed his question to the ceiling.

"Whatcha staring at there, Draco?" Seamus clapped the Slytherin on the shoulder.

"The god of pigeons, I'm sure. Let's go, before something else happens," Draco ushered the girls inside the train. He waited until the whistle was called, but there was no sign of Harry.

"Draco?" Neville was there when he swung himself up into the train.

"Yes?"

"He's not here," Neville said as they entered their compartment. The rest of the Slytherins, and one lone Gryffindor, went silent.

"What do you mean?"

"Sirius has taken him and Ginny on ahead." Neville settled in next to Blaise. "Black said something about a meeting they had to get to with the Headmaster. Harry didn't want to go, but Sirius wouldn't take no for an answer."

Draco's nails dug into the palm of his hand hard enough to leave crescent moon indents. "Did he," was all he said. He gave an abrupt shake of the head. "Was that all?"

Neville frowned and looked away. "No, but I'd rather not start it all right now."

"Then when –,"

"How was your summer then, Millicent?" Blaise cut Draco off before he could gather his rage. The blond fell back against the seats, furious, but silent. He needed their help and throwing a tantrum was no way to get it.

"I went to Prague," she said. A nervous hand swept down the formal robes. "There's a school there I want to study at."

"Magical?"

"A center for advanced magical theory," she tucked her hair behind her ears and quirked an eyebrow at Pansy. "Unlike some, I didn't get a box full of marriage proposals."

"Hey!"

"Father likes this idea better," Millicent went on with a shrug. "Mother would have preferred me marrying. Father was pleased when no letters came."

Pansy deflated. "None at all?"

"Not one."

"But…"

"I really don't care, Pansy."

"But…"

Millicent wrinkled her nose at the girl. "It's all right, stupid."

"I'm not stupid, you're stupid!"

Millicent's smile crinkled the skin around her eyes. She turned to Blaise. "And you? I'm sure your mothers and fathers were fending off quite a load."

When Blaise began to cough and Neville turned red, Draco took notice. He straightened from his slump and peered at the two. "You didn't," he said to Blaise.

"Didn't what?" Sasha looked back and forth between them. Seamus peered over her shoulder.

Draco snapped his fingers and held out his hand to Neville. "Let's see it then."

"Draco!" Blaise scowled at him. "Don't be so –,"

"It's all right," Neville pushed back the collar of his robe display a shiny pin attached to the fabric of his shirt. They all leaned in close to peer at it. _Platinum_, Draco noted. _Good choice, Blaise. Tiny script, and…is that protection runes? I would bet they are. What a wonderful idea, I must mention this to Harry. _He blinked and sat back. _I wonder if Harry would_…

"That's a – it's a – but you and your family –," Pansy pointed at the pin. "You're not pregnant, are you Neville?" She peered at his face.

Neville went white while Blaise began to sputter. Millicent had to lean against the window to catch her breath. Sasha had her hand covering her mouth, but even she couldn't control her snickers.

"You pervert!" Blaise tried to go for his wand, but Neville stopped him. "You know that's impossible! Wizards can't get pregnant, even though some have tried," he made a face at the thought. "That was outlawed years ago by the Misuse of Magic Act of 1912! They had to put all the – the – the _things_," he shuddered, "to death because they were crazy."

Neville turned to stare at Blaise. "It was possible?"

"_No_," Blaise sounded scandalized.

"Then how do you know of it?"

"Because his great uncle took part in the experiment," Pansy cooed at them. "Are you planning to follow in his footsteps, Blaise? Your mothers would be so proud."

"Shut it, you wench! And no, I'm _not_."

"Then you'll have Neville do it? How cowardly of you."

"Neither of us are getting pregnant!" Blaise finally roared, right as their compartment door opened for the passing trolley lady and her pile of sweets.

She stared at them. They stared at her. "Candy?" She asked.

"No, thank you," Blaise whispered. The door slammed shut between them and the trolley's wheels could be heard squeaking down the hall at a quick pace.

"Oh, Merlin," Neville covered his mouth. "Gran's going to kill you, Blaise."

"Not before my mothers have a go at me first," the Slytherin hid his face in his hands. "I hate you all. Not you, Neville. Just the rest of the jackals in the room."

Their laughter echoed down the hall.

**qpqpqpqp**

The walk back to the Slytherin dorms was quiet. Snape kept his pace sedate, much to Harry's relief. The halls of the castle were strange without the usual bustle of hurrying feet; Harry liked it best this way, without the noise of the other students and their constant stares and whispers.

He kept an eye on the man next to him throughout their walk. He'd though at first that the Potions Master was going to speak to him on their way back to the dorms, but the man did not say a word. His hands were folded inside of his sleeves, hidden from view.

"I…" Harry broke the silence. "Thank you, sir."

"No reason to thank me, Mr. Potter."

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Could I…" He bit his lip and swallowed the rest of the question.

"Could you what?"

"Could I be Harry, just for a little while longer, please?"

Severus stopped in the middle of the hall, causing Harry to turn back and face the man. "You idiotic child," the man bowed his head, his hair hiding most of his face. He huffed out a sigh and looked up. Black eyes pinned Harry in place. "Harry," the man said with quiet deliberation.

He beamed back at the man. "Thank you, sir."

Snape pushed past him, muttering under his breath. Harry had to trot to catch up to his long gait. Their pace slowed once they were even with each other. They were silent the rest of the way back to the dorms.

**qpqpqpqp**

Ginny stood in the center of her room, hands empty at her sides. Her cane lay on the bed in front of her. She glanced around the room, bit her lip and hobbled over to it.

The walk down to the dorms had been full of chilly silence. Professor McGonagall didn't seem to want to talk to her at all, which was strange. Ginny inched her way onto the bed and laid one hand against the polished length of the cane.

_Young witches are no good to the wizarding world if they aren't whole_, the Healer's voice rang in her mind. She snatched her hand back from the cane, the warmth radiating from it feeling more like a brand. She clutched her hand to her chest and turned away from the semi-sentient tool.

_Healer Fondorn said I was getting better_, she rubbed at the offending joint. The dampness of the dungeons was fading, the roaring heat of her fire dispelling most of the chill. Still, it was hard to sit there and ignore the pain like Fondorn had said she should. She had to be perfect, after all, whole and healthy, if she wanted to be able to uphold the Black family name. Fondorn had said so.

She chewed on her lip as her stare went beyond the flat gray surface of her walls. _Harry is up with the Headmaster now_, she rubbed a bit harder at the ache in her leg. _I haven't seen Snape…Professor Snape, I should call him. Sirius would be livid if I didn't keep up the manners they taught me._ A smile tugged the corner of her mouth up into a wry grin. _Not that Sirius has many manners himself_.

She let out a sigh as her smile disappeared. Sirius had been more serious of late, not that he'd laugh at the joke anymore. Harry's…problems took up much of his time and his anger. Ginny didn't understand what was wrong with the boy. _Sirius loves him! He's trying to do his best for us and Harry just doesn't…understand_. A headache bloomed behind her eyes. _ I feel bad…I should have told Sirius about the night Harry…but Harry looked so panicked, so alone. I don't know what to do anymore_.

A knock at her door startled her out of her thoughts. "Enter!"

Madam Pomfrey stepped through the door, a wide, sweet smile on her face. "Why, Ms. Black you look quite the young lady!"

Ginny jumped off the bed and tried to go give the woman a hug. Her knee went out on her the second she put weight on it.

"Oh!" She caught herself with her hands. The Head Nurse was at her side in an instant.

"Oh my," the older woman's wand flicked out and over Ginny's leg. "My, my, my."

"It's okay," Ginny shook her head, trying to tamp down the urge to cry. "It happens sometimes. Healer Fondorn said it would, but that I had to push past it. I won't get any better if I…if I baby it," she forced the last out. She tried to stand.

"None of that!" Pomfrey's sharp order startled Ginny. "You stay right there, young lady!" Ginny stayed. The Head Nurse ran her wand the length of Ginny's leg and made a few humming noises to herself. She reached Ginny's ankle and flicked her wand back into her sleeve. "I see," she said.

"See what?" Ginny blinked at the woman.

Pomfrey opened her mouth, gave Ginny a strange stare and then shut it. She shook her head and helped Ginny to her feet instead. "I received Healer Fondorn's instructions," she finally said.

"Oh…you did?" Ginny didn't know what to feel.

"Oh, yes, I did." There was another odd note to the woman's voice that Ginny didn't understand. "But we'll address those…_instructions_ another day. Right now, I want you to sit here," she guided Ginny to a chair. "And elevate this knee. You've put too much strain on it for today. You are to keep your cane with you at all times."

"But Healer Fondorn said…"

"Hogwarts has many more staircases than the Black Manor, missy. You'll need it for all the climbing you'll have to do."

"…Yes, ma'am." Ginny tried to ignore the wave of relief that washed through her.

Pomfrey was studying her with sharp eyes when she glanced up. "You keep off of that until dinner. I'll come and get you when it's time for the feast."

"Won't the others be here by then?"

"No, no, they'll go straight to the Great Hall." Pomfrey stood, burying her hands in her apron. "Now, I have a few things to whip up in the Infirmary before then. Will you be fine here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Pomfrey frowned at her, shook her head and turned to go. "Remember, stay off that knee. I'll come and get you in an hour."

"Yes, ma'am." But Ginny ended up speaking to her door as it shut behind the older woman. She blinked at it, let out a small sigh and turned to the hearth.

Within minutes she was asleep.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry was surprised when the Potions Master guided him to the man's office instead of the dorms.

"Sir?" He stood in the middle of the room, a little lost.

"Ms. Black is being examined by Pomfrey. I would think you would want to give them their privacy, am I right?" Snape moved beyond him, lighting the fire with a flick of his wand.

"…Yes, sir."

"Good," Professor Snape moved over to his desk and began to flip through the loose papers piled in neat stacks all over the scarred surface.

Harry rubbed damp palms on his robes and glanced around. "…Sir?"

"Yes?" Snape didn't bother to look up.

"What…is there something I can do, to help?"

The older man's hands went still for a long moment on his papers. Then he looked up. "No, Harry. You may do as you like. The Welcoming Feast starts in little over an hour."

"All right," Harry blinked at the man. He turned to the set of stuffed sofas surrounding the hearth. He sat in one, feeling the cushions draw him in. The fire crackled in front of him, its heat filling the room. He felt his body tilt to one side, curling up against one corner of the couch. He never felt the blanket drawn over his body, or saw the man who stood in front of him for a long moment, blocking the heat of the fire.

Severus Snape settled into the chair next to him, bringing his notes to the small table near the fire. It put a cramp in his back, but he bent down to fill out the rest of his lesson plan by the light of the fire. Having Harry in the seat next to him meant nothing. He was simply chilled by the early fall.

That was all.

**qpqpqpqp**

The Great Hall was buzzing with noise when the Slytherins stalked through the entrance. There was a slight hush that Draco reveled in, before the noise of the students rose back up to its normal roar.

Pansy flounced on ahead of them, pointedly ignoring the Ravenclaw table. Millicent was in a conversation with Neville about the magical uses of rosemary while Blaise kept pace at Draco's side.

"I heard that there were a lot of new students this year," Blaise slid onto the bench next to him.

"Yes," Draco agreed, half-listening. He was studying the tables, trying to find Harry.

He saw the Head Nurse enter through a side door. When the conversation stilled around them, he looked up. Ginny stood there, hands on her cane and a nervous smile on her face.

"Hello," she smoothed one hand down her school robes.

Something that sounded suspiciously like Harry's voice in the back of his mind reminded Draco to be pleasant to the girl, even if she was a Black. "Ginny," he said. "Hello again."

"Draco," she bobbed her head and moved to sit next to the older girls. Millicent and Pansy shared a glance, but let Ginny slide in between them. Neville had filled the rest of them in on the last legs of the train ride to Hogwarts, what he had seen and heard at the Black Manor. None were pleased with Sirius, Draco especially, but Neville's report of the things Ginny was also going through did permeate, at least a little bit.

Not that he _wanted_ it to.

The younger girl spared a smile for her dorm mates. "How – how was everyone's summer?" Her smile grew a bit when she saw Neville. "How was the train ride? I'm sorry we missed it, but Father…" She faltered, drew in a breath and forged on. "Father had something he wanted to talk about with the Headmaster and he…well, he worries."

"I'm sure he does," Pansy patted her hand. "You'll never _believe_ where I went this summer! Guess!" The girls drew Ginny into a chattering conversation, keeping the younger girl turning back and forth between them with an ease that sent a shiver down Draco's spine.

"Pity," Blaise murmured to him.

"What's that?"

"Those two would have made a terrifying Auror team."

Draco tried not to cough pumpkin juice up his nose.

It was almost time for the Sorting and Harry was nowhere to be seen. Draco could feel his anxiety rocket through the roof every minute he was without the other boy. He knew Harry was in the castle. The tug on his soul was strong and distinct. He could almost feel the other boy's aura in the air.

Just before the doors were to open and the new students led in, a body wormed its way between Draco and Blaise. They both turned to protest, but a mop of messy black hair stopped the words cold in Draco's throat.

"Shove over," Harry pushed at Blaise. The other boy went.

Draco's throat felt strangely tight. Harry settled in next him, perhaps closer than strictly warranted, but the blond wasn't about to complain. When Harry's hand found his under the table, the knot of…_something_…dissolved and he could breathe once more.

"Harry," he had to clear this throat and take a long draught of juice.

"Draco," the boy said back, giving his hand a squeeze. Harry laced their fingers together and held tight.

"Harry," Ginny's voice sounded strange. Draco frowned at her, noting her glare at Harry. "You shouldn't be sitting there."

"Only place to sit, Gin. The rest is full." Harry's hand tightened on Draco's.

"Sirius would be livid."

"Well, Sirius isn't here right now." Harry reached for a biscuit. "I'm starving," he said to the rest of the table. "How was the trip? I wished I could have come with you."

"You know we had to come early, Harry." Ginny's frown grew deeper. "Just because Sirius made us take a port key…"

"It's fine, Ginny." Draco had never heard Harry's tone be so sharp.

"I'm telling Father," Ginny told him.

"You'll tell him what, Gin? That I came late to the feast because I fell asleep and had to wiggle into the only seat available?"

"There's plenty of room a the end."

"And why would I sit there? You're here too."

"I…" The girl's face flushed a dark red. They were saved from more by the doors swinging open to allow Professor McGonagall to enter, leading the bevy of young faces in behind her.

Draco saw Professor Snape slide into his seat just as McGonagall reached the teacher's table. He nodded at the dark eyes that roamed across their table, noting how some of the tension around the man's mouth and eyes eased at the sight of Harry at Draco's side.

McGonagall's dry speech was familiar enough for Draco to tune out. He let his gaze wander the hall; Ravenclaw was particularly full, with some of their members casting glances at Slytherin table. He tried to make note of the faces. The lack of red hair at the Gryffindor table was a shock; the twins were gone, apparently not coming back to school for their final year. He would have to ask Seamus for more information later.

Names were read off and the required clapping ensued. Name after name went by, but Slytherin was not called. A host of shining, excited faces went to Gryffindor, their eyes bright and chests puffed out with pride. Draco still had no idea how that idiotic House kept its good reputation year after year. It made no sense at all.

Finally a Slytherin student was called. They all stood and cheered – a little out of character for them, but something had to make up for the other Houses' long moment of silence before their polite applause chimed in.

Out of the near hundred new students inducted into Hogwarts that year, they ended up with thirteen. Dumbledore's speech, he noted with some ire, included everything of forgiveness and working together, but _nothing_ about Slytherin or how their deeds from the last year had surely saved them all.

Harry leaned into his side, dispelling an edge of his ire. "Politics, Draco," he murmured under the drone of the old man's speech. "Some things change slowly."

"I don't have to like it."

"_Now_ who sounds like a Gryffindor?"

He squeezed the hand still laced with his. Harry's grip had not faltered the entire time. Draco knew _exactly _what he wanted to do if they had been alone – but there was time enough to kiss the boy breathless later. Especially when they were out of sight of Ginny.

The feast was excellent, as it was every year. It couldn't end quick enough for Draco. As a House they guided their new members down into the dungeons, their larger, stronger House members providing point and rear guard as they made their way through the halls.

"They look so small," Harry had had to let go of Draco's hand to eat, but from the way he stuck close to Draco's side, the option of taking it back seemed to preoccupy his thoughts.

_It would be nice_, Draco conceded, _but with Ginny behind us, better not. We'll sort that out and deal with it later_.

"We were all that small," he said instead, leaning in to bump shoulders with Harry. The sliver of a smile he received was understanding.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice called.

"_Gin_ny," Pansy cut in before the girl could continue. "Weren't you _listening_? I simply _haven't_ told you about _all_ of them and it's important!" The blonde took the younger girl's arm. "After all, this is something _you'll_ have to prepare your new father for."

That was sufficient enough to take Ginny's attention away. Pansy and Millicent guided her into the girl's dorm when they reached the Common Room, the air around them all but sparkling with gossip and images of wedding dresses. It was almost enough to send a shudder down Draco's spine.

The rest of the House guided their newest members to the center most couches near the roaring fireplace. Draco gave them all a once over, the worry in his gut intensifying.

"All right," he said, catching their attention. They _were_ small, all of them. Ten boys and three girls, all from small, no-name pure blood houses Draco recognized from his lessons in heraldry. Most of them _should_ have gone to Durmstrang, he realized. _ I wonder why they were sent here, instead_?

"Welcome to Slytherin House," he touched the badge pinned to his chest. Harry gave him a brilliant smile. "I'm Draco Malfoy, head boy for the sixth years. Pansy Parkinson is the head girl for my year. You're all welcome to ask us for help at any time. The rules of this House are simple, but don't you dare break them." He met their eyes one at a time. "First, never betray your House. Second, you always protect your housemates, even if you can't stand them. Outside these walls, we're united; we show no chinks in our armor for the others to exploit." He leaned back in his seat, watching the relief and hope dawning on the young faces. His worry gained weight.

"I'm Sasha," the girl stepped forward. "We all have our roles to fill in this House. Come to me tomorrow before breakfast and I will explain your duties and schedules."

"Thank you, Sasha," the girl had taken over the post as Head Coordinator for the House without protest. It was one less thing Draco and Pansy would not have to deal with.

"As for the rest," Draco told them, "the Head of the Dorms will fill you in," he nodded to the two seventh years standing next to him. "Remember, if you have questions, do not be afraid to ask. Tutoring sessions are held throughout the week. Remember! We are Slytherins and we are _proud_ of that fact," he smiled at them all. "And we take pride in being the best. So go on, find your rooms and settle in."

Their newest members scrambled off, much happier than they had been at the beginning of the House meeting.

Group by group, the other students moved away, some helping with the first years, others catching up with friends they hadn't seen all summer, leaving the core of the House plotters alone near the fire.

Harry had curled up nearest to the hearth, eyes half-closed, knees pulled to his chest. Draco could just see the barest hint of green peeking out from under dark lashes.

"All right," Draco turned to the others. "Let's get down to business."

End Chapter Twenty-Five


	26. Chapter 26: Back to Classes

Chapter Twenty-Six: Back to Classes

The meeting between the sixth years, and lone seventh year, took little time. Draco wanted to be alone with Harry when he reported about his dreams – they had all had a sense of what was going on from Neville's report, but Draco would rather hear it from the boy himself.

Shooing the rest of them off, Draco all but dragged Harry to his rooms. They were across the hall from each other again, which suited the blond just fine.

Harry's hand was warm in his as he pulled them into the room. Harry let go, moving for the hearth like a magnet – it worried Draco to no end, how _pale_ and _thin_ the boy had gotten. Sirius Black was lucky to be far away from Draco Malfoy at that moment.

"Harry?" He leaned back against the door, a host of words wanting to burst from him, but no clear place to start.

Outline by the fire, Harry's smile peeked out from over his shoulder. "Yeah," he said, eyes shining.

They considered each other across the small distance between them. Draco felt his fingertips press into the wood at his back. "I," he had to stop and clear his throat. "Neville said you got my letters?"

"Yes," green eyes, far too bright in the dim light of the room, never left his face. "I would have written back, but…" He sucked in his lower lip and shrugged.

"Yeah," Draco pushed off the door, taking a step toward the other boy. Harry held his ground with the barest hint of a smile. "I –,"

Harry moved first, two steps to Draco's side, arms wound around his chest, holding tight. Draco grunted as they collided, but held on, some tight, aching spot in his soul relaxing at last. He bowed his head, blinking a little at the height difference – _did I grow? - _ between them. Fine black hair tickled his nose.

"I missed you," Harry mumbled into his chest. "And if you say _one_ thing about girly whatevers, I'll kick you."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Draco drew in a sharp breath, settling his chin on top of Harry's head.

"I couldn't leave," it was quieter.

"Black wouldn't let you?"

"It was more than that, Draco. You know that."

"What I know –," he cut himself off before the words could leave his throat. "Black is a fool," he said instead.

"…He means well."

"He is still a bloody, blind fool, Harry. How could he not see what they have done to you."

A muffled laugh escaped Harry. The other boy pulled back, a wry smile curving his lips. "They blamed it all on you, of course."

"Me? _Me?_ How dare they –," he watched Harry's expression fall. "I'm sorry," he said, not exactly sure what he was apologizing for.

"It's not your fault," humor gone, Harry looked far too old for his years. Draco let him go, watching as Harry pulled an ottoman closer to the hearth and sat.

"Harry?"

The other boy rubbed his hands over his face. "Is it silly to think that the moment you got here, I thought everything was going to be all right?"

_Something_ was going through Harry's head and Draco hadn't the first clue as to what it was. He approached the other boy, kneeling at his feet. "Harry, back up. Start from the beginning."

"Didn't Neville tell you?"

"He told us some things," Draco countered, "But Neville is too kind a soul to spill everything in a train car in front of a crowd."

Harry let out a long sigh. "Yeah," he agreed. He turned to the fire, tracing the flames with his eyes. "You're right."

"So, tell me?" He reached out and curled his hands around Harry's. "Remember what Pythia said? I'm your strength, your pillar, Harry. I can't ground you if you don't trust me. I will never, never betray you."

Hands clasped his. "I believe you," Harry turned back. "You're one of the very few I think I trust anymore."

"Tell me."

"It's…dreams, mostly," a line appeared between dark brows. "I have a journal of them, you should read it."

"And?"

Green eyes focused on him. "I'm getting very tired of being called a liar."

Draco swallowed at the banked rage in Harry's eyes. "I'll never call you that."

"And thank Merlin for it," Harry shook his head, a muscle in his jaw flexing. "Sirius – he's convinced that if I push it all away, if I _pretend_ that everything is fine, it will be fine." The hopeless laugh that came from him was one of the worst sounds Draco had ever heard. "Even Remus is caught up in it, Ginny too. How'd it get this way? Summer was supposed to be a time of renewal, I thought…" He wiggled one hand free, rubbing at his eyes.

"Harry?"

"I think maybe it was one of those things Pythia was talking about," he let his hand drop. "You know, there's this little voice in my head, sometimes, that tells me everything you and I went through together, Pythia, Gwenn, all of it, was just some made up dream."

Draco tightened his hold on Harry's hands. "It wasn't a dream."

"The worst part," the corners of Harry's mouth turned down. "The worst part was sometimes, when Sirius would get that damned _look_ on his face, sometimes I almost wished it was all a dream. Aren't I horrid?" He tried to pull away. "I wanted Sirius to be there, for so long, I'd give up –,"

Draco didn't let him finish. He pulled Harry off the ottoman and into his lap, arms tight around the other boy. Rage burned hot and quick in his throat, but he hoped it did not show. He could _kill_ that interfering Black for what he'd done. _Then_ he'd tell Severus and let the Potions Master figure out a way to resurrect the bloody animagus so they could kill him _again_.

"You need a vacation," Draco spoke into the nest of dark hair. "A place where gods and stupid, bloody animagi can't find you."

Harry's arms tightened around his neck.

"Some day, I swear, I'll get you away from all this," Draco moved them so Harry was not contorted to fit into his lap. "Someday we'll go away and put up so many wards no one will find us."

"N-no," Harry huffed into his neck. "That won't work."

"Sure it will."

"Your father would be furious."

"We can always connect by floo."

"I wouldn't want to take you away from them."

"We'll find a way around it."

"Draco…"

"I mean it, Harry," he didn't let the other boy wiggle away. "It will get better and one day we'll have all the peace and quiet we could want."

"It would drive you mad."

"That's what Apparition is for. No one else needs to know where we live."

"…You would do that?"

"In a heartbeat."

Harry was silent for several long minutes. "I wouldn't, you know," he finally said.

"You wouldn't what?"

"Choose Sirius over you." Harry's hold tightened. "Does that make me selfish?"

"No, it means you're brilliant. Everyone should pick me over that mutt."

"I'm serious, Draco."

"I'm not, but I don't think you'll much like that joke at the moment."

A huff of laughter escaped the other boy. "Not that again."

"Indeed," Draco closed his eyes, enjoying the heat of the fire, the heavy weight of the boy in his arms.

"This wasn't what I had planned our reunion to be like," Harry said after a while.

"Do tell," Draco shifted back, leaning against the overstuffed chair.

"It was a bit more…happy."

"You're not happy to see me?" Draco couldn't resist the line.

He got an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. "You – I didn't – well, I am, but _not_ –," Harry let out a growl. "_Slytherins_."

"Damn me, damn yourself."

"Argh!"

Draco yelped as nimble fingers poked him in the side. "No! Don't you dare!"

"Hah!"

Some rolling around on the floor was called for, though not the kind that woke Draco up in the middle of the night with sticky sheets. They ended up sprawled in front of the fire, laughing and breathless.

"I missed this," Harry turned his head to look at him.

"Getting filthy on dorm rugs in the middle of the night?"

"Draco!"

"What?"

Harry dragged a hand over his red face. "How do you…"

"How do I what?"

"How do you just spit that out like that?"

Draco rolled to his stomach. They were less than a foot apart. In the shifting firelight, Harry looked whole, healthy, better than he had in months. It gave Draco hope that Harry might look like that all the time, somewhere in the future.

"What can I say? You inspire me."

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed. "You're worse than those shows Aunt Petunia used to watch."

"Shows?"

"On the television."

"The what?"

"The –," Harry quirked an eyebrow. "You know, they're really not that important."

"So you say."

"So I know." Harry laughed again. It was a wonderful sound. "Hey," green eyes sobered. "I…" The blush came back. Draco watched, fascinated.

"You?" He leaned closer, watching it bloom over pale cheeks and color the tip of Harry's nose.

"Would you stop it?"

"Stop what?"

Wide green eyes narrowed. Harry caught his collar and yanked Draco close.

They were considerably closer by the time they drew apart.

"That was what I'd imagined," Harry couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"I like your imagination," Draco couldn't fathom why the sound of his voice made Harry shiver like that, but it was a good move. They were almost past every marker they'd yet explored, and as much as Draco wanted – well, what he wanted – the damnably responsible side of him was doing its best impersonation of a harpy.

"I think," he said after a moment. "I think it's time to sleep."

Harry blinked up at him. "Sleep?"

"_Oh_ yeah."

"But…"

Draco smoothed a thumb over the line between dark brows. "I know there are things we still have to discuss, but I doubt anything will happen tonight. It will keep, you've had a day I can't imagine and I," he drew in a ragged breath. "I would very much like you to stay, but…" He offered Harry a lopsided grin. "I'm afraid Severus would be just furious."

Another blink. "Professor Snape?"

"Oh, yes."

"Why?"

"The, ah," it was his turn to blush. "The wards, you see."

"Wards? For what?"

Draco gave him a flat look. Harry stared back. Draco moved his leg, which caused Harry to blush yet again.

"There're _wards_ for this?"

"There're wards to alert for – ah, _activities_ of a certain nature. All the dorms have them."

"Are you serious?" Harry pushed at Draco's chest. "You mean Professor Snape – he could – he _knows_?"

"No, no, Harry," he caught the other boy's hands in his own. "He won't know unless we, ah," he blinked. "Well, do something _else_."

"But he doesn't know right now, right?"

"I'm sure he suspects."

"Draco!"

"He was sixteen once, too."

"I need a hole to crawl into," Harry told the ceiling. "And a very large rock to cover it up with."

"It's not _that_ bad."

"So _you_ say."

"Dumbledore could know, too."

Harry clapped his hands over his face. "You're awful."

"I know," he couldn't help the grin. Green eyes peeked out between narrow fingers.

"But they don't know for sure, right?"

"Right."

Harry's hands fell away. From the flush still lingering on his cheeks, Draco knew something else was going through his head.

"Is it," Harry cleared his throat, glanced up at Draco and then away. "Are the wards always…activated?"

Draco was torn between testing said wards out and laughing. "Not always," Draco had to start disengaging parts of their bodies, just in case.

"Really?" The note in Harry's voice was almost too much for words.

"Definitely time for bed." He blinked. "To sleep," he cocked an eyebrow at the room. Just in case. Severus was a canny, canny man that Draco put little past. Having a listening spell in the dorms would not be beneath his dignity.

Though he wouldn't tell Harry that.

Still, even after he got Harry to his own room and put their doors and locks between them, it was a long time before he was able to sleep that night.

**qpqpqpqp**

The breakfast meeting was something Harry was glad to skip. However much at home he now felt in the Slytherin dorms, there was still something a little odd at being so devious in the mornings.

Especially before tea.

The comforting thump of his book bag on his hip brought a smile to his face. Hogwarts' halls were long, gray and familiar. The chilly morning air was beat back by a roaring fire in the Great Hall. Harry climbed over the bench and settled in, bag at his feet, cradling the waiting cup of tea in both hands.

"Harry?"

He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. He hadn't _had his cup of tea_, damn it, and he didn't want to deal with Ginny before that.

The girl slid onto the bench next to him, her cane resting in the space between them. She did not meet his eyes.

_Okay_, he blew over the steaming liquid. _What now_?

"Harry, I…" She folded her hands in her lap, so prim and proper it made him smile. Ginny had taken to Remus' lessons on etiquette over the summer like a fish to water.

He stayed quiet as she began to fidget in her seat.

"I wanted…that is…Father means well," she set her jaw. "He means well and he wants what is best for us."

He tried a sip. Still too hot.

"And – and he thinks Healer Fondorn is the best for us, so we have to trust in him, Harry. If you want to – to _blame_ anyone, then put it on someone else. But not Father. He loves us."

He managed a few mouthfuls without scalding himself. The day was looking up.

"Are you listening to me?"

Half the cup gone. At least he had some sort of caffeine in his system. "Yes," he answered before she could blow up at him. "I heard you."

"And?"

"And what?"

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat. "Do you have anything to say?"

_Girls_, he suppressed a sigh. "What do you want me to say?"

She was starting to turn red. "This isn't about what _I _want you to say!"

_Yes it is_, a part of him whispered. "Sirius loves you, Ginny," he said instead. "But the stuff Healer Fondorn was spewing is complete garbage. Sirius doesn't _care_ if you're perfect," he ran on, steaming over her initial protests. Her mouth snapped shut at last, eyes wide. "Sirius doesn't care if you know the whole heraldry code, the most obscure etiquette for centuries old balls – all of it means nothing to him. As long as you're _happy_," he pierced her with a sharp look. "He's happy. So don't do stuff that makes you unhappy or in pain. Healer Fondorn can stuff it and Sirius would tell him so in a heartbeat if the man ever got the balls to even bring it up in Sirius' presence."

"I…I…" Her eyes were bright with tears. "You think so?"

"I know so," he felt tired and the day was just beginning. "Look, Gin. None of it mattered before, right? Just be happy and that'll send Sirius over the moon."

"But…"

"You know I'm right," Harry turned back to his tea. It was still warm. Food seemed somewhat appetizing still.

"But…if you're still…"

"Ginny," he cut her off. His stomach soured, rolling heavy and sick. He choked down a mouthful of tea.

"But I –,"

"Ginny!" He was saved by the arrival of Pansy and Millicent. The older girls all but dragged Ginny away, their arms fluttering with magazines of all types.

Draco slid in on his other side. "All right there, Harry?"

"Maybe," the tea did wonders for his stomach. He didn't bother to protest the food that Draco piled up on their plates – he knew the blond would never force him to finish it all. Unlike some.

"Is there more toast?" Toast was good. Several still-warm slices made their way onto his plate. He snitched the jam and butter and set to work. It was the finishing touch for his stomach. His appetite came roaring back. Draco had to snatch his fingers out of the path of Harry's fork.

Perhaps it would be a good day after all.

**qpqp**

The jury was still out on the matter by lunch. Their first class had been Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall had been her normal self, stern and proud, but with that twinkle in her eye that always reminded him of Dumbledore. They'd been paired with Hufflepuff, so the first class was quiet and filled with copious note taking. They'd be having their OWLs at the end of the month, to make up for missing them at the end of the last school term. Harry was determined to do well on them.

The second class of the day was Herbology – which they had with the Gryffindors. It had struck Harry, half way through Professor Sprout's welcome back lecture, that he was waiting for Ron to jostle his elbow, roll his eyes and pretend to fall asleep where he stood. It was such a sharp memory that it took his breath away, causing him to sway. Draco's hand on his side kept him upright. Professor Sprout, he was relieved to see, had not noticed.

It was still odd to be on the other side of the room from the rest of the Gryffindors. Dean Thomas' wide smile and glittering sneer was given out to his surrounding housemates and Harry in turn. That, too, seemed wrong. _Ron_, he gave a guilty start. _I wonder_…He turned his face away, not allowing himself to finish the thought. _Enough, Harry_._ What's done is done. Leave it be_.

He did manage to spy Hermione in the crowd. Protected by a row of his classmates, Harry could only watch as Hermione entered the class by herself, took notes and studied their class syllabus by herself and left, all by herself. She had dark shadows under her eyes, but by the set of her mouth he could tell she wasn't completely unhappy.

Somehow he knew he'd learn what she was up to one way or the other. The answering chill on the back of his neck assured him of that.

There had been a number of dark looks from the Gryffindor crowd throughout the day, but after the year before, they were easy enough to ignore. No, what had Harry's skin crawling as they made their way back to the Great Hall for lunch was the way the majority of the first years all shied away from him, half them terrified, the other half seemingly disgusted.

He stared down at his full plate, not exactly sure how it had gotten there. "What's going on _now_?" He turned to Draco.

Blaise was on his other side. Neville and some seventh years Harry only knew in passing sat opposite of them.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Gray eyes blinked back at him.

"Draco."

"Harry."

"Will you tell me?"

The blond cast a lazy look around them that Harry knew was anything but. "We're not sure," he lowered his voice to a murmur. "None of the upper years seem to be affected. Give us a few days."

"Are you sure I can't just make an announcement?"

"For what?"

"Oh, something along the lines that I'm not plague-ridden, possessed or a leaper would be nice."

Neville turned an interesting shade of green. "Gor, Harry. Not at lunch."

He rolled his eyes at the other boy, but felt a smile creep onto his face. _It's better than last year_, a voice told him. He went still, listening. It wasn't one of _his_ voices…_as mad as that sounds_, he snorted into the silence in his head. Nothing answered back.

"Harry?"

He blinked up at Draco's concerned expression. "I need more tea," he told the blond.

Three cups were thrust in his direction.

It felt good to laugh again.

**qpqp**

He was not laughing as he stared up at their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor some time later.

"What happened to Professor Montevay?" He hissed at Draco.

"Ah, ah, Mr. Potter." The…creature in pink toddled up the aisle, her heavy perfume spreading in her wake. "We do not _whisper_ in class," her pink lipstick was smeared on one of her front teeth. "Do you have anything to add? Do speak up?"

"I…" He glanced around the room, but found no support. Draco was eyeing the woman in front of them with the same kind of banked horror that was lodged in Harry's gut. "I was just wondering how Professor Montevay was," he tried to smile at the…woman.

Glittering, piggish eyes stared down at him. "And why ever would you wonder something like that, Mr. Potter? Did you do something to her?"

He felt his mouth drop open. "Of course not!"

"I'm sure you didn't," Umbridge's smile could have had icicles hanging off of it. It would have given her the fangs she needed. "Perhaps you had one of your spirits attack her, or was it a demon?"

"Huh?"

Umbridge drew in a sharp breath, clapping her hands together at her chest, spinning around to face the rest of the room. "Oh, you poor dears," her simper was almost as bad her perfume. "We have so much to correct!"

And thus began the Class from Hell, as Harry dubbed it later. And it really was, since Umbridge spent the entirety of their first lesson passing out different sheets covered in prayers both in Latin and the Queen's English.

Harry didn't have the words to describe what he was feeling. The migraine that loomed in his near future robbed the rest of his thoughts.

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays were the same, Transfiguration, Herbology and then double Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoons. Tuesdays and Thursdays had their specialty classes, and double Potions after lunch.

Harry would have happily rearranged their schedule in a heartbeat. The less time in Umbridge's company, he figured, the more his sanity would stay intact.

"Is she for real?" He leaned into Draco as they escaped from their last class of the day.

"I don't know, and trust me, I intend to find out," Draco gave a full body shudder. "I need smelling salts."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "What _was_ that? It was awful."

"Mystique," Pansy chimed in. "It's a perfume from Paris. _Tres chic_, but smells like a distilled swamp. Mother used to have a bottle until Father took it out back and buried it. He said he refused to pay a small fortune for something I could slap together in Professor Snape's class."

"Yeah," Harry rubbed at his nose. "I don't know how I'll make it through the whole class with that everywhere."

"We'll see what we can do," Pansy's smile was sharp as a shark's.

"Pansy?"

"See you at dinner!" She hustled past them, one hand clamped around Millicent's wrist. The larger girl rolled her eyes at them but picked up her feet, allowing Pansy to drag her off.

"I'll never understand girls," Harry said.

"Lucky for me," Draco laughed.

**qpqpqpqp**

The God watched the sun set in the west, eyes latched onto the idea of land in the misty distance. _Over there_ was home. _Over there_ was his temple, his site, the place where blood had fallen thickest. _Over there_ was where he needed to go and the delay was not pleasing him one bit.

Around him milled his new congregation, his new bevy of believers. His Priest was a bright flame at his side, tall and proud as Tigernas could have ever hoped to be. _Yes,_ he smiled into the salt-heavy wind. Everything was going according to plan.

He had wanted to slaughter the puny mortals at the dock. All and everything in the world was his domain – the humans would learn that in due time. Still, his new priests had balked, their hasty prostrations the only thing saving them from the lash of his rage. They had another way, they'd said. Please, Master, which did mollify some part of his ire. Still, they would learn that while he was their master, he was more than that, a god soon to be made flesh, to be worshipped with every breath.

But there would be time for that.

A boat slipped free of the dock, the God's shining symbol painted in fresh blood along the mast. _Yes_, he felt the energy – the magic, his priests called it – gather around them. Soon, soon he would be home, on the soil of his ancient triumph. Soon the bonfires would burn yet again. Yes. Soon.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry woke, gasping. He rubbed at his eyes, fumbling for his glasses.

"Harry?"

Draco was with Blaise, pouring over a textbook at one of the study tables. Neville was at the foot of the couch, staring down at him.

"All right there, Harry?"

He met the worried gaze. "Yeah – I –,"

"Harry?" Draco had twisted around in his seat. "What was it?"

"I'm not sure," Harry sat up, closing his herbology text. He had finished his homework and had meant to get some review in before dinner. Still, sleep had tugged at his bones until he'd given in.

Draco slid out of his chair and came over to sit next to Harry. "A dream?"

"I…think so." Harry stared into the fire.

"About what?"

He shook his head. "Gold and red," he spread his hands and sighed. "And screams." He saw the glances that flashed around him. He couldn't find the energy to be annoyed. He wrapped his arms around his middle and closed his eyes, seeing the flash of gold and splatter of crimson behind his lids.

He didn't have to imagine the still-ringing screams.

End Chapter Twenty-Six


	27. Chapter 27: Settling In

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Settling In

Crom Cruach viewed the site in a rage. His followers cowered on the ground around him, some vomiting up bile and blood, all of them affected by his ire.

His temple was a parking lot.

The half-deserted town had seen a tourist boom in the last decade that brought a sudden boost of income while it lasted. The city had taken the money and ran with it. The still-to-be-developed sites that were intended to stimulate the local economy paved in places, leveled in some, and, in others, little more than over-grown tangles of rotting construction supplies.

The site of his temple – millennia before – was under thick stone that crumbled at the edges. Weeds peeked up through the tar-thick substance, stretching desperate leaves towards the mist-covered sun. When the money had run out, so had the town's luck. Fewer and fewer people stayed in the village, leaving for the larger towns away from the rocky coast and its fading fisherman trade.

Crom Cruach was livid. Even his Priest was on his knees, pressed as close to his God as he dared, attempting – and failing – to placate Him with mouth and hands.

The mortals around him writhed as anger spiked through the god. This was _his_ site. How _dare_ the humans defile it. He caught his Priest by the arm, hauling him to shaky feet.

"Slaughter them all," he spat into the blood-streaked face. He pushed the man away, letting the temporary body fade back into the Dark. He would need to save his power for later, when the bonfires burned high and the straggling remains of the pathetic mortal village were little more than mush and blood on his altars.

He would build his temple anew from their stacked bones if he hand to.

**qpqpqpqp**

As Harry had predicted, Defense Against the Dark Arts really was the class from Hell.

But they did, actually, get some use out of it.

Umbridge's strange fanaticism reminded Harry of the young men in black suits that used to go door-to-door in the Dursley's neighborhood. They were always polite, always eager to lend a helping hand, but getting them out of the house was damn near impossible, at least until he took their pamphlets and promised to consider the redemption of being born again in Christ's name, amen.

Harry could never really figure that last part. How, exactly, did you get reborn? Was it like in those wacky videos Aunt Marge would force Dudly to watch, full of people in leotards leaping like animals all over the stage to weird, rhythmic music? Aunt Marge had called it culture and for Harry to scatter off, since he would never understand it anyway. One of the videos had a tunnel-shaped thing where a bunch of the dancers wiggled out of, stretching arms out towards the flaring stage lights – if that was the mess of being born again, Harry had decided he would pass, thank you. There had been _slime_.

It had been Blaise who pointed out the good parts of Umbridge's long rambling speeches about passages from a book called the New Testament.

"It's the One God's religion, see?" Blaise had a stack of notes on the table, some stickied with colorful tabs, others highlighted. "It's a pretty bizarre mix, but it _is_ a muggle religion. They've worked a ton of old pagan rites into their beliefs – it's pretty easy if you just accept most of them as bonkers and work with the system they left in place."

"Hey, now," Seamus was the only one to stutter. "It's not that bad, mate."

"Yes, it is."

"Well…" Seamus frowned, one hand curling into a loose fist. "I'll give you the part about being bonkers, but I'm Roman Catholic. We're all a bit touched in the head."

Sasha had turned to look at him. "Is it catching?"

"Only if you take Communion."

"Communion?"

"Eh…yeah."

"What is it?"

"The – ah…erm. Body and blood of Christ."

Eyes had gone wide. "You mean you're a bunch of cannibals?"

It had taken the rest of the afternoon to straighten _that_ mess out.

Still, the lectures Umbridge gave had little to do with the Roman Catholic liturgies Seamus had supplied for the Slytherins. Of the two, Harry preferred the solemn rituals of Seamus' church. Umbridge did little more than quiz them on the hand outs she gave them and forced them to say the Lord's Prayer every beginning and end of class.

Most Slytherins were starting to get fed up with the whole thing.

The realm of politics had also spread to Hogwarts' halls. Draco was as bad as the rest, supporting his father's renewed push to have a site cleared somewhere close to Diagon Alley for the Temple to All Gods to be built. As expected, the Slytherin House fell in behind the idea, as did a surprising amount of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Gryffindor House protested the loudest, with most of its students rallying behind Fudge's new speeches of going back to a more traditional way of life, one that was led by the rules in that Old Testament Harry kept hearing about – he thought it was rather silly, since they were both in the _Bible_, why call it Old or New? Then Seamus had had to sit him down and explain it, only it just made thing worse.

"You mean the Old Testament is the how-to guide for the Jewish people?" Harry rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

Seamus had frowned, but nodded. "Sort of, yeah."

"…So what the hell does it have to do with Christianity?"

"Well, Jesus was a Jew."

"But _you_ said he was the son of the One God."

"He…is. Sort of."

"So then Christians are all Jews?"

"…No."

"Make up your mind already!"

Harry still didn't get it and Seamus had given up trying to explain.

The elections were starting to heat up. The position of Minister would be decided in November, but people were already protesting in the streets over both Fudge and Scrimgeour. Harry kept his head down as much as possible and stayed far away from the hot heads in Gryffindor that kept trying to get him to weigh in on the matter.

They did, after the first week, find out why all the first years had been terrified of Harry – were still, point of fact, leery of being in the same corridor as him. Umbridge's lectures, for the other classes, had a much more…violent trend, as they found out. Brimstone and hellfire and the old gods were all lumped together as devils and damnations, and Harry was seen as the key that had brought all of it out into the light of day.

Harry was certain the woman was completely _barmy_.

On top of everything else, they still had to prepare for their OWLs. Harry and the rest of Slytherin House studied every night. In the rare moments when he wasn't trying to stuff his mind with facts that he was supposed to have learned the year before, Harry had to wonder how Hermione was holding up. He'd tried to keep an eye on her, and was relieved to see her talking more with her Housemates. She had yet to come to the Slytherin table in the library, though. Harry was starting to worry.

It was at the end of one such evening study session, two and a half weeks into term, when Harry and Ginny had their first true fight.

He'd been avoiding the girl at almost any cost – he'd been getting a letter from Sirius every few days asking – _demanding_, Harry made a sour face – as to what he was doing and whom he was seeing. Harry had fobbed his godfather off with a few lines here and there, snippets of gossip from classes and how much work they were trying to cram into the month the school board had given them to prepare.

Ginny had not been as recalcitrant to write.

Their row had cleared the area around the main fireplace in the Common Room.

"You have to tell him, Harry!"

"No, I don't."

"He _loves_ you. He wants what's best for you."

"Sirius is wrong about Draco and the Malfoys. And Professor Snape."

"But can't you write him then and _tell_ him that?"

"Tell him what, Ginny? That I sit with Draco in every class, rely on him to keep me sane –,"

"Not that again!"

It got very silent around them. Harry let his arms drop to his sides. "I meant in Umbridge's class, Ginny. You've sat through enough of them to know they're enough to make anyone barmy."

"Right," the sneer was not what he expected. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and stomped a foot. "You need to _tell_ him all of this."

"Why? He'll just tell me to stop."

"Then stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Everything he wants you to stop!"

Harry peered at the girl. "I'm not going to give up one person I care for just because another person I care for tells me to."

"But he's Father!" She threw her hands up in the air, cane waving wildly enough to cause some to duck.

"No, Ginny," he turned away, too tired for words. "He's not mine."

He made it to the boy's dormitory hall when she spoke. "You won't let him be your father."

Harry did not answer. He shut himself in his room instead, and no amount of pleading by Draco got him to come out.

**qpqpqpqp**

Crom Cruach stood on the tall bluffs over looking the sea. An early winter storm was rolling in over a slate gray ocean. The silence was cut by the shriek of the wind and little else.

Behind him the large rectangle of crumbling stone had been chipped away to half its size. His new priests had not been able to use their _magic_ on it, since they claimed it would bring the Unspeakables and the Ministry down on them. The God had not cared, but his Priest had argued the point with eloquent words and willing body, so he let the matter slide. For now.

The initial rush of bodies had been a sweet victory over the ruin of his once-precious site. There had been enough victims to raise a barrier over the mortal village, causing all others to forget about it, to wander away or turn around just outside of the village limits. It was raised by his Priest, in the old language and the old ways, a wondrous sight in the barbaric lands of this future and untraceable by this meddlesome Ministry that had his priests petrified with fear.

He needed better worshippers. These pissed themselves far too easily when his ire was raised. Fear was for the weak and foolish. He would replace them in due time.

There was still so much to do. He needed a clear space for the foundations of his temple. The old wooden posts and golden idol would not be good enough this time. He wanted more, much more. And he needed the sacrifices to go with it.

He had the perfect targets in mind, but no time before the fist turn of the cycle to complete his plan. No, he would have to wait until the turning cycle returned to a position of his favor. The fires would be lit. His temple would have enough time to be built and ready for its first, most important sacrifices.

The God bared his teeth to the wind and spread his arms, letting it catch his scent. There was so much to be done, but he had no time to chase them. No, he would let them come to him.

He knew they would come, one way or another. Now all he had to do was wait.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Harry?"

He let the letter drop to his lap. Draco stood framed in the door to his room, a worried frown marring the skin between his eyebrows.

"Yes?"

Draco slid into the room, closing the door behind him. "You are awfully pale."

Harry set the letter aside. "It's nothing."

"Black?"

"It's nothing," he favored the blond with a look.

"Right – it's just – we need to talk."

"Talk about what?"

Draco drew in a short breath – then let it right back out. "I truly hate Pansy at times."

"This was her idea?"

Draco pushed off the door and took a seat next to Harry on the bed. He could feel the blond's body heat in the chill of the room. There had been frost that morning, thick enough to last until the sun had risen over the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. Professor Sprout had not been pleased.

"I wasn't idle while you were gone," Draco chose to move on into a whole new conversation. It was a strange habit, but Harry was getting used to it.

"I would imagine not."

"I think…I'm almost positive, I've found a way to create Gates into the Otherworld."

Harry sat up straight. "How's that?"

Draco curled a hand around Harry's, focusing on their joined fingers. "I put it all together – it kept me sane while you were gone."

"Did you go into the Otherworld by yourself?"

"No, I wanted to wait for you."

"But you've been able to create a gate?"

"Yes – but keeping it to the same place every time is almost impossible."

"Draco, this is amazing!"

The blond threw him a crooked grin. "So you'll forgive me for not using it to come rescue you?"

Harry pushed Draco down onto the bed and curled his arms around the other boy's neck. "You're an idiot."

"Hey!"

"Of course I don't blame you." Harry settled them against the mound of pillows on his bed. "Professor Snape said to me once – a Slytherin does not run blind into unknown situations."

"That sounds like him."

"You could have been lost."

"I know. I couldn't trust the Gate to hold with just myself."

"You think it'll hold with the both of us?"

"We need to return to Pythia. She has the answers we need. She can help."

"While we're at school?"

"When else are we going to learn?"

Harry drew back to look Draco in the face. "You're sounding awfully Gryffindor-ish today."

"Hey!"

He settled back against the blond's side. "The frost was bad," he seemed to have picked up Draco's bad habit.

"Yes."

"It's never been like this before."

"I know."

Harry let out a sight. "This weekend?"

"Yes."

"Good." They lay curled together on the bed, the cracking logs on the fire the only sound left in the room.

**qpqpqpqp**

Scrimgeour threw the report down on his desk hard enough to bounce.

"Sir?"

"Get out." He didn't mean to shout, but his temper was at the end of its leash. He wanted to be alone.

The door shut behind the last of his interns. Merlin, he would have to apologize tomorrow. He paced to the window and braced his palms against the sill.

Diagon Alley was a riot of protestors and anti-protesting protestors, a strange mix of muggle and wizarding clothes that hurt the eyes. Muggleborn witches and wizards were pouring in day by day, all flooding the register's office to be able to vote. Fudge's smirk was pasted across several poster board signs, the animated face not funny in the least as it pontificated in silence. Here and there in the crowd he could make out the flaring aura of an Unspeakable – the hush-hush section of the government having decided to back Fudge instead of him. They were a constant source of worry for Rufus. He had no idea how to handle them.

Politically, at least.

The only ray of good luck in the storm of messes was Potter's continued silence. The reports of Death Eater activity was up – he needed to leak those reports to the sympathetic presses that supported his side. That he had had to order some of his more…loyal followers to help the reports along – well. He would deal with that mess when he was in the Minister. In this regard, he firmly believed that the end justified the means.

Still, Albus was upholding his end of the bargain, which meant a whole other set of issues when Rufus took the Minister's position. But again, he needed the venerable old wizard in his corner for what was left of the fight. Fudge's legion of muggleborn supporters would be difficult enough to overcome. He needed almost all the pure blood and half-blood votes to counter them. Then he needed to win a majority of the muggleborn to his cause as well.

There was a knock at the door. "What?"

"A Mr. Lucius Malfoy to see you, sir."

Rufus spared a moment to sigh. Then, "Let him in."

Malfoy swept through the room like the lord his family had raised him to be. Rufus knew they had no real title – the French noble lines had not passed their titles off to their English cousins, but Rufus did not blind himself to their…connections.

He knew them and hated them.

"What do you want?" He didn't bother with pleasantries.

Malfoy never blinked. "I want the Temple to All Gods be built."

The Temple. Of _course_ the bloody Temple. Day in and day out he was hounded by that bloody white elephant that was doing a jig in the middle of the room.

"The plans are not out of the committee yet," he said instead.

Malfoy took a seat in one of the slick leather chairs opposite him. "Of course not," the blond had the gall to look amused.

"Then, as you can see, there's nothing I can do, Malfoy."

A pale eyebrow arched. "You are not that stupid, Rufus. There are ways around this little…hiccup."

"Yes, but I, unlike some, do not like to use Imperio on the unwilling."

Malfoy made a soft sound in the back of his throat. "A Malfoy is above such things, I'm sure you know."

"Of course."

Pale eyes glittered in the lamplight. "I could win this election for you, Rufus, and you know it."

"I will win it fairly, Malfoy."

"Come, come. Call me Lucius, please."

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Malfoy. Please leave."

The blond stayed seated. His hands were folded over the knobby head of his cane. "You're not nearly as boxed in as you think you are."

"Good _day_, Malfoy."

Lucius rose, but did not move. "The Temple could unite the pure blood families behind you."

"And in case you've gone blind, Malfoy, there are more muggle born on the streets now than all of the pure blood and half blood families put together."

"True," Malfoy cocked his head to one side. "But isn't it strange, Rufus, how almost half of those _muggleborn_ fools are holding signs crying out for unity and peace?"

That checked Rufus from his scathing dismissal.

A sliver a smile crossed Malfoy's face. "Don't worry, Rufus. It'll all come together soon."

"Wait – what? Malfoy what are you planning?"

"Planning? Why Rufus, you make it sound so sinister." This time the smile was anything but pleasant. "Consider it a favor…or payback if you prefer." He turned on the ball of his foot, his dress robes perfect in their flare.

"Malfoy? Hey, wait –," but the man was gone, sailing passed Rufus' sputtering secretaries and interns without batting an eyelash.

Rufus' gut felt like lead. Nothing good ever came of the pure bloods mucking about in politics. He had a feeling he was not going to like whatever Malfoy had planned. And that he wouldn't be able to wiggle his way out of it when the plan was revealed to all and sundry.

Rufus allowed himself a large glass of firewhiskey that night.

**qpqpqpqp**

Neville liked mornings in the hot houses best. Hogwarts had such a vast array of them that he could spend all day trimming and weeding and never have to speak to another soul.

A perfect job for him.

Professor Sprout was grateful for his help. He hadn't told the others – or Blaise, he conscious piped in – but his OWLs were just for show. So would be his NEWTs. He had a position waiting for him at one of Britain's premiere labs as an Herbology assistant. He and Professor Sprout had finished up the paper work the year before – the position was close enough to his Gran's house for him to continue to live there, if he chose. Now he had to tell Blaise, but he had no idea where to start. He didn't want to give up his dreams, but what if Blaise wanted to do something else, live somewhere else?

"If he loves you, he will understand."

Neville yelped and fumbled with the pot in his hands. Rosmerta took it from him with a smile.

"M-m-my lady!" He didn't know whether to bow or kneel.

"Neville Longbottom," her eyes were bright in the early predawn glow. "I know your name."

"Ah…yes?"

Her smile grew. "You should not worry so," she set the plant down on one of the long potting tables that ran the length of the room.

"I shouldn't?"

"Of course not." She tapped his nose.

"Ahh…all right." He felt a bead of sweat break and slide down the column of his neck.

The goddess winked at him and stepped away. Even in the uncertain light, she was brilliant. The plants around her seemed to vibrate, their color flooding back for one last bloom.

She did a slow turn on the hot house. Her smile was gone by the time she faced him again. "There is something wrong here," she said.

"My lady?"

"Come now, boy. Speak up."

He blinked. "It's an early frost."

"No…no." Strands of hair fell into her face as she shook her head. She speared him with a glance. "_Look_ at them, Neville Longbottom."

He drew in a shaky breath. "I have."

"And?"

He inclined his head. "There is something wrong here."

She let out a hiss and turned away. He could breathe again. "Many years have passed since I have felt the coming winter this much." She rubbed at her arms. "It is almost as if…"

"Almost as if what, my lady?"

She shook her head again. "I must go," she glanced over her shoulder at him, one corner of her mouth curling into a smile. "I will see you again, Neville Longbottom."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her smile grew and then she was gone.

End Chapter Twenty-Seven


	28. Chapter 28: Truth and Trust

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Truth and Trust

While their intentions had been good, last minute study sessions took up the whole of their weekend. Harry put the idea of heading into the Otherworld off until the end of their OWLs, while Draco fumed over both his textbooks and his failed plans.

Umbridge's class did little to help their study for the upcoming tests. All attempts at review were shot down with the same glittering smile that never seemed to leave the woman's face. Harry had tried to re-read his old Defense text during class once, and ended up receiving his first "black mark" for his troubles. The fact that Umbridge also wrote to tell Sirius of his insubordination had a strange perk to the situation – in Sirius' mind, if Harry was acting up in class then he was starting to show his old Gryffindor spirit, which validated everything in Sirius' mind.

Harry never did respond to his godfather's proud, rambling letter. He got through the first paragraph and had to set it down. He had yet to read the rest.

The OWLs came on like a storm; there was no more time for preparation, no more time to re-read the marked passages in their notes – the examiners came early in the morning on Monday and left them exhausted, barely conscious, on Friday.

"If this is how bad the OWLs are, I don't want to take the NEWTs." Harry lay on one of the long couches, head on Draco's lap. He threw an arm across his eyes with a sigh.

Draco was slumped in his seat, tie askew and the top button of his shirt undone. His hair was mussed, but by none of Harry's doing – their last test had been Defense Against the Dark Arts and their examiners had been rather…vigorous in their testing.

"I give up," the blond rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Who needs test results in politics? I'll leave now and live on the family's ridiculous fortune for the rest of my life."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Draco," Pansy flipped her hair over her shoulder. She had Millicent trapped in front of her, hands spread with wet polish on her nails. "Quit moving, Millie. You'll smudge them."

"They're _pink_, Pansy."

"I love pink!"

Millicent let out a sigh, but said nothing.

The sound of a cane on the tile entrance caused Harry to tense. Draco's hand found its way into his hair, but it did little to relax him.

"Harry?"

He didn't want to open his eyes. "Yes, Ginny?"

"…I have a letter from Father."

"I got a letter from Sirius today too, Ginny."

"Harry…" He heard her sigh. The others were all silent around them. They'd all had their own ideas about what Harry should do to solve his problems with Ginny.

"I'm really tired, Gin. Can't this wait?"

"You're always tired."

"Well, yes."

"Harry, Sirius is sending Healer Fondorn this weekend."

That caused him to sit up with a jerk. "What?" He turned to her.

The set of her mouth was familiar. Harry had seen it many times on Sirius'. "He's coming to do a check up on you."

"But…" Harry swung his feet to the floor. "I don't _need_ a check up."

"Well that's what you get for ignoring your letters," the girl narrowed her eyes at him. "You've _worried_ Father, Harry. He cares for you enough to do this –"

"All right, Ginny. All right." Harry held up a hand to forestall another lecture on his poor behavior. Ginny sniffed, turned on her heel and limped away. Harry watched her go, feeling sore places in his heart he had no name for. _Things weren't supposed to be this way_, he closed his eyes for a moment. _They weren't_.

"She's jealous, you know." Pansy never took her eyes off Millicent's hands.

"What?"

"Ginny." A swift glance up at him and then away. "Your godfather really knows how to muck things up."

"Sirius is…" Harry fell back against the couch with a sigh. "He's a Gryffindor."

"If that wasn't the truth," Pansy rolled her eyes. "I don't know what he's done to _her_ to make her so insecure –"

"Sirius would never hurt her!"

She sent him a sharp look for interrupting. "He wouldn't mean to. But your godfather's a fool. He's tried too hard to be too much, and he's left her feeling inadequate."

"But…Sirius loves her." Harry didn't know why he was bothering to protest.

"You know that, he knows that." Pansy agreed. "Ginny, from what she's told me, doesn't quite know that yet."

"But…"

"It takes time," Pansy capped the polish bottle and set it aside. "She was shattered by the Weasleys and then Sirius was there to sweep in and become her hero. Problem is, he's never been a father, so he's taking all the examples he knows and winging it. And he's doing a pretty poor job of it."

"You mean the Healer?"

"That man's a fraud, Harry," Draco interjected. "He's a fool and a gossip monger. The Blacks should have sacked him from the start."

"Sirius trusts him," Harry could only shrug. "The man was nice to Sirius when he was little. Sirius thinks the man can do no harm."

"Well, he obviously can," Draco curled an arm around Harry and drew him closer. They ignored Pansy's coo and Millicent's snort.

"There's no helping it," Harry scrubbed his hands over his face. "We'll have to plan around it."

"It'll be fine."

"I _hate_ that man."

Draco's arm tightened around him. "Well, remember, he'll have to enter the dungeons first. If he gets too much, we'll sic Severus on him. How's that?"

Harry blinked at the image. Then he began to smile. Their laughter chased the last of the tension from the room.

**qpqpqpqp**

Healer Fondorn came early Saturday morning. Harry was ready for him, waiting in the Slytherin Common Room, drying damp palms on the rough material of his pants.

The portal opened, but only Professor Snape stepped through. By the thunderous set of his brows, Harry had a good reason to bet that the Potions Master had met the Healer somewhere in the halls.

"Mr. Potter," Snape folded his hands into his sleeves. "There is one Healer Fondorn here to see you."

"Yes, sir."

"Was this your decision?"

"No, sir."

Severus glanced towards the half-open door and stepped away. "You need not do this…Harry."

He tried to smile at the man. "If I don't it'll just get worse."

"There is no reason to put you through this man's idea of treatment yet again."

He shrugged. "Sirius worries." He got up off the couch. "Is he coming in?"

Snape's mouth was drawn to a thin, unhappy line. "No, Healer Fondorn refuses to examine you here. I will be escorting you both to the Infirmary where Poppy shall act as your witness."

"My what?"

"Your witness, Mr. Potter." The dark eyes fixed him with a sharp stare. "Did you think we would leave you alone in this man's company?"

"I, uh…" Harry felt the flush covering his face.

"Come along," Snape turned on his heel before Harry could speak. He followed the man out of the portal and up the long, dark stairs to one of the well lit halls. Healer Fondorn had a matching scowl for Professor Snape when they reached him.

"Potter," Harry wanted to shrink from the look in the Healer's eyes. "Come along." Fondorn began to march off in one direction.

"The Infirmary is this way." Snape's smile was vicious. Fondorn whipped around to scowl at them.

"_This_ way, Potter. Come along."

"I, uh," Harry had an irrational urge to hide behind his Head of House. "The Infirmary really is this way," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"Are you arguing with me?"

"I, uh…"

"Healer Fondorn," Severus cut in. "As Mr. Potter's Head of House, I am his acting guardian while he is on Hogwarts soil. If Mr. Black insists on this…interview, then _I_ will insist that it take place in a safe, sanitary area which will be supervised by the school's own nurse."

"You're setting a watchdog on me, Snape?"

"Why, the man does have a brain."

"Sir," Harry turned to his teacher.

"Potter, you come here right now."

He glanced at the Healer. "But…"

The man drew himself up to his full height. "Your godfather shall hear of this."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "I thought…You were here to give me a check up."

"Your insubordination has grown worse I see."

"But…"

"Are you quite finished?" Severus took a step forward, between the Healer's furious gaze and Harry.

"Not in the least," Fondorn snarled.

"Then again I must insist: the Infirmary or nothing."

The Healer's face was flushed an ugly mix of red and purple. "Fine," the man spat out and swept by them, looking like a child about to have a fit. Harry was reminded again of Ron for one awful moment – _he always used to storm off, just like that_ – before he pushed it down and away, locking the thought in the back of his mind.

"Stay close, Mr. Potter," Snape laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, causing him to jump. The hand tensed, but gave him a brief squeeze and then was gone.

"Thank you, sir," Harry swallowed hard against the strange rush of fear that had decided to lodge itself in his throat.

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Potter."

**qpqpqpqp**

Poppy watched them with sharp eyes. She refused to leave Harry's bedside for any of Fondorn's requests, another thing that infuriated the man to no end. Harry was grateful she stayed – he remembered all too well the man's sharp fingers and hard grip.

"You must step away for this," the Healer had finished the last of his physical examination. Snape had left them at the door, turned them over to Poppy's care. Harry had a moment to wish the man had stayed.

"Mr. Potter is also my patient," the Head Nurse's expression was more of a snarl than a pleasant smile. It was a shock to see it on the woman's face.

"I am his primary physician. _You_ must leave now." Fondorn poked one imperious arm off down the hall. "Go away."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes, woman, you will or so help me I will lodge a complain with the board of governors –,"

"It's all right if she's watching from the end of the hall, right?" Harry broke in. Both adults turned to stare at him. "That way she can still supervise but she won't be able to hear us." He turned large eyes to Poppy. "That works, right?"

Her expression gentled. "Of course, Mr. Potter. If you're sure."

"I am." She gave the Healer one last steely glance before marching down the hall. At the entrance to her office she stopped and turned, hands folded at her waist, eyes trained on them.

Harry could see the vein the man's temple throbbing. "You've painted quite the picture, I see." Fondorn kept his voice low as he turned to Harry.

"I've only told them the truth."

"Ah, yes, but we all know what your version of the truth is," Fondorn folded his arms over his chest. "I will tell you, I am concerned, Potter. You made such progress this summer. Now all our hard work is almost gone."

Fear spilled through Harry. "How so?" His smile wasn't much of anything, he feared. "I'm much healthier now." _No thanks to you_, he added in his head. The potions Professor Snape created were the ones that had worked the most miracles for him.

"I am more worried about your _mind_, Potter." The Healer let out a sigh that made Harry want to cringe. He knew that sigh. "You're back to believing all your nonsense, aren't you?"

"Nonsense, sir? I haven't had time for it."

"And you are speaking back to your betters. Really, what _does_ Slytherin teach its students these days?"

Harry swallowed the first three answers that sat at the tip of his tongue. "Forgive my rudeness, Healer Fondorn. But it's true – we've been studying nonstop for a month. We just took our OWLs."

The man never blinked. "I'm most disappointed in you, Potter. Your father –,"

"Godfather," Harry set his jaw.

The man's eyes shifted. "Ah yes, of _course_ Mr. Potter. Your _godfather_. He and I shall be having a long talk about this, mark my words."

"I always do," Harry forced his jaw to shut.

The man's hand twitched. Harry tensed. Then Poppy's brisk footsteps broke the staring contest between them.

"Time is up, Healer Fondorn," she all but elbowed her way between the man and Harry's seated position on the bed. "Thank you for coming all this way. Professor Snape will see you out."

Harry twisted on the bed. Snape was standing in the door to the Infirmary, black hair and robes fading into the dim light of the hall.

"I can see myself out," Fondorn spared one last look at Harry. "We are not done yet, Mr. Potter. I am most concerned."

"As am I," he didn't feel bad about the tone of his words, not when it looked like Madam Pomfrey wanted to box the man's ears right then and there.

Fondorn stalked off without another word. Poppy stood at attention at Harry's side until he was gone.

"The things you get into, Mr. Potter," she said with a sigh. The tension seemed to leak from her frame.

"I…I don't mean to."

She blinked down at him. Then a series of expressions flew across her face, too fast for Harry to track. "Oh, my boy," she reached down and gave him an enveloping hug. Harry had no idea what to do, so he sat stiff in her embrace. She pulled back after a moment, patting at her face. "My, my," she shook her head. "We won't leave you alone with him, Mr. Potter. If you meet with him in the halls, come find us immediately. Fondorn has no authority in the castle. Hogwarts is _mine_," she tilted her chin up with pride. "Come along, I'll see you back down to the dungeons."

He followed her out of the Infirmary, still a little lost, but hopeful. Pomfrey kept up the light chatter all the way back to the dorms.

**qpqpqpqp**

It felt like she was going in circles. Perhaps she was. But the Morrigan pushed her spirit further, feathers slicing through the Dark, senses trained on that. Damnable. Scent.

It had grown stronger. She had one, wild, hopeful moment when she thought she'd found it, found the lead that would take her to the source. But then the Dark had snatched up the scent, taken it apart with its strange, almost sentient tendrils and flung it wide. The scent was _everywhere_ now. Winds both physical and not pushed it deeper into the dark recesses where her kind had long ago given up exploring. Nothing ever came out from the Wild Dark – the dark that sat beyond the mists and the gloom, the Dark that was as cold as the places between the stars.

She flew as close as she dared, darting in and swooping back. The scent was there. It was _stronger_. She had to remember. She _had_ to.

Her furious scream echoed off into the Dark. She flew on, ignoring the feel of eyes on her back.

She already knew what was watching.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Harry, are you sure about this?" Draco studied the bowed head in front of him.

"Yes."

"You've been off all morning."

"I'm fine."

"Harry…"

"I said I'm fine, damn it!" Harry's head jerked up, his glare taking Draco's breath away. "I am so bloody tired of people doubting every damn word I say. I'm _fine_. Let's _go_, Malfoy, or I'll go without you."

"Fine."

"_Fine_."

It wasn't how Draco wanted their first crossing to be like. Instead of elation at the flickering portal, instead of a joyful shout and swelling pride, Draco felt acid burn the back of his throat as Harry marched forward through the portal without a word of praise.

_Prat_, Draco stalked after him, wand gripped tight in his hand. All his efforts to make the portal more like an actual door had failed – they ended up with a vague archway for almost giants. Still, it worked and he could summon it with a word and a drop of blood on the charm he wore around his wrist. It was the single bauble on the chain, but Draco was determined to make more.

The entrance to Pythia's cave opened in front of them. Harry swept on without a word, the angry set of his shouldering churning worry and ire in Draco's gut. _We don't doubt you_, he wanted to shake a fist at the retreating back. _But you're too bloody stubborn sometimes, Potter. Can't you learn to lean on someone? Can't you trust me_?

He hurried after the other boy, stepping into the cave, hot on Harry's heels. He blinked at the spots that wanted to form in front of his eyes.

"Ah, there you are." The sound of the oracle's voice unwound some knot of tension in Draco's middle. Maybe she would be able to talk some sense into Harry.

Harry went to her side immediately. Draco set his jaw, but stayed near the entrance, folding his arms over his chest and watching them through narrowed eyes.

Pythia blinked at him. "Hm," she glanced down at Harry and then back up at Draco. "I see." A small shake of her head caused the tendrils of hair near her face to sway. "Come along, Harry. There are some things I need to show you." She put one arm over his shoulders and drew him beyond, into the curtained alcove at the back of the cave.

"Bit of a spat, then?" The voice at Draco's back made him jump. He spun, wand out and a curse on the tip of his tongue.

Homer never moved. The swarthy skinned man had one shoulder propped up against the wall, arms crossed and what looked like a pipe clamped between his teeth. Draco could almost smell the sea brine on his skin. Draco lowered his wand and rubbed at his nose. No, he took it back. He _could_ smell the sea brine on the man's clothes.

"We're fine," he answered the man's question.

The pipe was transferred from one corner of the man's mouth to the other. "Oh, I doubt that. C'mon then, boy. You and I will have a nice talk."

"Talk?" Draco planted his heels into the ground. "I'm not going anywhere without Harry."

"Oh, boyo, don't you get it?" Homer took the pipe out of his mouth and stabbed it towards the hanging cloth. "They're already gone."

"What?" Draco sprinted for the alcove. He heard cloth tear as he ripped the curtain back. The Dark rippled where the firelight met its surface. There was no sign of Harry or Pythia.

"No," he felt his throat close. The anger roared forth. "No, damn it, _no_." He felt magic surge through his bones. "You're not supposed to _do_ this, Harry. You weren't supposed to leave without me." He drew his arm back, wanting nothing more than to blast the Dark apart and go hunting for the other boy.

A hand caught his wrist. "Enough," Homer hauled him around. The force caused Draco to stumble, fall to his knees in front of the Dark.

"No," his eyes felt odd. His bones seemed to shiver under his skin. It was the strangest sensation, but it didn't hurt. Just pressure, a feeling of being trapped by delicate skin, but no pain.

Hands settled onto his shoulders, gentle this time. "Oh, the mess of things these days," Homer drew Draco away from the glittering Dark. The curtain was hauled between them and the pressure on Draco's bones seemed to fade.

"What?" He shook the older man's hands away. "That was – what happened?"

"Come, let's have us a drink," Homer caught Draco's elbow as they stood. A wooden cup was thrust into Draco's hands as Homer sat them in front of the fire. A tentative taste proved it to be mulled wine. Draco wrinkled his nose, but wrapped his hands around the mug. The warmth felt good against his now-aching bones.

"Now, let's start over, eh?" Homer drained his cup and refilled it. "What's sent the bugs up your shift, then?"

"I'm _fine_."

"Just like your Seer is fine, I'm sure." Homer rolled his eyes and leaned back against the sloping chaise. "Try it again."

Draco set his jaw and looked away. "There's nothing to say." A thought occurred to him, causing him to glance back at the man. "How, by the way, am I understanding you? I don't think the Greeks knew English and Pythia said you'd been trapped here for close to two thousand years."

Homer's dark eyes stayed on Draco for a long moment. "We'll start it this way, then," he said to Draco's confusion. "You're right, I don't know the language you speak. Nor, I would bet, would you understand the language I speak."

"What?"

"Consider, young man, where we are," Homer's arm encompassed the entire rough-hewn room. This place used to exist on the mortal realm. But long ago, a terrible rumbled felled the whole temple, killed almost all the acolytes and trapped us under here." Homer took a long draught from his cup. "It took weeks for them to clear the rubble away. When they came to the stairs where the chamber used to exist, there was nothing." His hand carved a flat line into the air. "Solid bedrock under the temple. A new fissure had opened up to one side. When they rebuilt, they moved their new Priestess there."

Draco frowned, staring into the shiny surface of the mulled wine. "Are you saying you're dead?"

"No," Homer's rich chuckle moved his flat belly. "But for millennia we have lived in this pocket of the Dark, cut off from all Paths that creatures of the Otherworld can use. We are alone, here in this place. To travel outside, to go anywhere, we have to use the Dark and what gifts the gods gave us."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, boy, reality is what you _make_ it, here. Especially here," Homer refilled his cup. "I speak ancient Greek and a handful of Persian. You understand me because I _will_ you to understand me. Thus the words are changed to ones you understand. Just as when you speak to me, you _will_ me, subconsciously or not, to hear and understand what you say."

"…Oh." Draco stared at the man. "That is…edifying."

"Which also means I can tell when you're lying through your teeth," Homer pointed a stubby finger at Draco. "Now, what's wrong?"

"I…don't know."

"Liar."

"I _don't_," Draco's head came up. "Harry had a meeting with his _bloody_ Healer his bastard of a godfather made him see and Harry wouldn't let me come along and we _all_ know the man did horrid things to Harry and how am I supposed to protect him when he won't let me get close!" Draco threw his cup at the fire. The wine made the flames hiss and smoke. "I'm supposed to be his strength, his pillar – some bloody help I've been, he's been trapped in who knows what kind of situation, and what did I do? I made a door to the Otherworld. Good bloody job, there, Draco, brilliant, just let the love of your life be hurt by his relatives, but – jolly good job at the inventing!" Draco found himself on his feet, panting for breath.

Homer stared up at him. "Are you through?"

The air seemed to leave him. "Yes," he sagged back down onto the chair. "Yes, it would seem that I am _through_."

"Being a Seer means dealing with the Dark," Homer leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His cup dangled from his hands, swinging back and forth between his legs. "But being the pillar, the one who the Seer clings to, means knowing the Dark, maybe even better than they do."

"What?"

"You have to know a thing, to battle it." Homer sent a sharp glance at Draco. "You've got things swimming through your bones that you don't know about, if that stunt near the abyss proved anything. You have to strip away all the lies, all the things you pretend, you must be honest, to the point of pain, to know yourself. Then you must know them," a smile curled the man's mouth. "You must know their temper, their vices. The way they eat, sleep, shit, speak, breathe, vomit, scream and sob. A perfect image will shatter in the Dark. But a true image, the knowledge of a person, even with all their vices, will lead you to them with even feet and no fear of losing them to the abyss."

"But…I _do_ know Harry."

"You know bits and pieces of the boy," Homer snorted. "No one meets their pillar and knows them inside out in a matter of weeks."

"We've known each other for years!"

"But have you _known_ the boy inside and out, at all?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, and then closed it. "No," he said after a moment. "If anyone did, it would have been the Weasel." The truth burned the back of his throat.

"And that angers you."

"Yes."

"Because _you_ want to know him."

"Yes."

"Have you asked him?"

Draco let out a long breath. "No."

Homer set his cup aside with a shrug. "There you go, then."

"What, that's it?" Draco knew his laugh was bitter. It hurt even his ears to hear it. "Harry's remarkably good at not answering. He doesn't trust anyone," he stared down at his hands. "I doubt he trusts me anymore."

"Why?"

"I failed him."

"How?"

"I let them take him. I never rescued him. I couldn't make Sirius stop being an ass."

"Ah, so you weren't able to be a hero, then, is that what it's about?"

"Gryffindors are heroes," Draco snarled. "I was just trying to protect him!"

"By keeping him in a cage?"

Draco reeled back, feeling as though he'd been slapped. "_Never_."

"I will tell you this once, boy. So mark my words," Homer leveled a finger at Draco's chest. "Seers are wild, head strong, stubborn asses. They refuse to be caged and die if they are. The Dark will rip them apart if they are away from it too long. The only way to protect your Harry, boy, is by letting him go. What you have to do," he continued over Draco's wordless protest. "What you have to do is learn how to fly along with him."

"Fly along with him," Draco repeated.

"Yes." Homer leaned back with a sigh. "Half the time your boy's head will be so full of things you can't imagine it'll be a wonder he'll be able to remember his own name. That's the price of being a Seer. It's a thankless job, being what _we_ are. Can you handle that?"

"Handle what?"

"Being ignored for the voices that are in their heads. For the conversations they hold with things you can't see. For having to hunt for them on the really bad days and hold them while they scream."

Draco swallowed against a dry throat. "I promised Harry I would be there. I meant it. I never go back on my word."

"Even if he forgets your name? Even if the Dark takes his mind and makes him attack you?"

"I won't leave him. Ever." Draco's hands curled into fists. "There's nothing he could do that would make me turn from him."

"So your little temper tantrum earlier was…?"

Draco set his jaw, but answered. "Just that. A temper tantrum. I'll live." He shut his mind the wailing voice in the back of his head, the one that wanted – demanded – the attention. He had given his word. He no longer had time to be childish about ridiculous things.

"I'm sorry," arms wound around Draco's neck, startling him. Harry's voice was right at his ear. "I'm sorry."

He turned, catching a handful of Harry's jumper. "When – when did you…"

Harry slid onto Draco's lap, straddling his legs, arms still tight around Draco's neck. The smaller boy buried his head where shoulder met the neck and pressed close. Draco curled his arms around Harry's back.

Draco never noticed Homer's retreat. Cloth rustled behind them and then they were alone.

Harry's breath hitched and he sighed. "I was a prat earlier. I'm sorry."

"I…no, it's fine."

"It's _not_ fine," Harry drew back, green eyes bright with anger. "You – _tell_ me when I'm being a prat, Draco."

"But…" Draco shook his head. "You were upset."

"I know."

"I'd rather not upset you more than you were."

"I'll deal with it."

"Harry…"

"Do you know how terrified I am that one day you'll wake up and finally understand what a colossal waste of time I am?" Harry's smile did not reach his eyes. "That one day you'll be utterly, utterly sick of everything I bring with me and toss me out on my ear where I belong?"

Draco put a hand across Harry's mouth. "You're being a prat," he growled. "I'll never be tired of you."

Green eyes widened as Harry shook his head.

"You don't believe me?"

A guilty look shifted green eyes away from him.

"Can't you trust me?"

Harry tugged at the hand that covered his mouth. Draco let it drop. "I trust you," Harry licked his lips. "I do!" He frowned at the expression on Draco's face. "It's just…not with everything."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

Harry let out a sharp sigh. "Because everyone has let me down so far. I trust people to a point, but it's like I wait for them to fail, as if I know, somehow, they will."

"I won't fail you."

"Yeah, well, I thought Ron and Hermione would never fail me either, and they ripped my heart to shreds."

Draco kept a firm grip on his temper. "I'm not them," he settled his hands on Harry's hips. "I keep my word."

There was no quick retort that Draco had been expecting. Green eyes searched his face instead. "I know you do," Harry said after a moment. "I know that."

"Well, then."

That caused a quirk of a smile to appear. "Yeah."

"Will you try?"

Harry drew in a long breath. "Will you be patient?"

"Yes."

"Then…okay."

"Okay, what?"

"I'll try."

Draco felt a weight slide from his shoulders. "Okay then."

Harry rolled his eyes. "We're a right bloody pair, aren't we?"

"As bad as Pansy on a chocolate low."

"I'm telling her you said that."

"Then you'd have to explain why and then she'd squeal and call Millicent and there would be nail polish."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Don't, eh? I don't think my ego would be able to stand that."

Draco tugged Harry close. The former Gryffindor burrowed back into his arms. The fire crackled in the sudden quiet.

"It was brilliant, you know."

"What?"

"Your portal."

"Shh, Harry."

"It was. I could never make something like that. You should be really proud. It's amazing."

Draco settled his chin on Harry's shoulder and told the voice in the back of his head to shut up. "I'm glad you approve."

"I'm sorry about earlier."

"I'm sorry I was a prat back at you."

"I hate Healer Fondorn."

Draco took the space of a long sigh to reply. "We'll figure out a way to deal with him."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

It was some time before either Pythia or Homer bothered the pair near the fire.

End Chapter Twenty-Eight


	29. Chapter 29: Choices

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Choices

"I knew this would happen!" Sirius threw Healer Fondorn's letter onto the table. His fist crashed down next to it. Remus didn't blink at his lover's rage.

"I _told_ Albus this would happen! I _told_ him Harry would backslide into that – that – that mess we dug out of the Malfoy Manor, but did Albus listen? No, of course not, not his precious Severus, oh he would _never_ do anything to harm James –"

"Harry, Sirius."

"Snape is just so – what?"

"Harry is not James."

"I know that."

"You just called him James."

"I – no, I – impossible. A slip of the tongue. Moony, _you_ know I love the kid, it's just…"

"Just what?"

Sirius sagged into his chair, elbows propped against the table. "I…it's so hard to talk to him. He's nothing like James, you know?"

"I know."

"James – he was always good for a joke and a laugh, a prank and some kind of mischief. James never could sit still, always on the go, always surrounded by people." Sirius shook his head. "Harry didn't even get Head Boy this year. They gave it to that Malfoy brat. James was Head Boy. Harry should be too."

"What if he didn't want it?"

"Not want Head Boy? Are you mad? James was plotting for the position from the second he set foot in Hogwarts. Harry –"

"Isn't James."

Sirius let out a harsh sigh. "I _know_ that, Remus."

"Then start acting like it."

Sirius jerked back, blinking at the too-calm werewolf. "I beg your pardon?"

"You'll get it, but I don't know for how much longer I'll be able to sit and watch you shove your head up your arse and warble, Sirius."

"What the _hell_, Moony –,"

Remus shot to his feet, slamming his hands down onto the table. It got Sirius' attention. "Harry is Harry. Harry is not James. All I have heard from you since the children left for school is James this and James that – can you _imagine_ what that's like for Harry? To always come in second place in his godfather's heart?" Remus' eyes glued Sirius to his seat. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to hear James this and James that, day in and day out? I know you loved the man, Sirius, but it would be nice to be reminded every now and then that there is room in that brain and heart of yours for more than a ghost!" Remus' shout filled the room. Sirius clutched at the arms of his chair as he watched his lover stalk away.

_James, what should I do_? He closed his eyes when nothing but silence answered. He opened them, gaze settling on the letter in front of him. _Harry_…he set his jaw. _Those bloody Malfoys and that Snape. It's all their fault this is happening. I've _got_ to talk to Harry. He has to see reason_.

The chair squealed against the floor as he pushed it back. His cloak was in the hall. He snatched it up with one hand, bounding out the door without looking back. He never heard the floo deposit the daily mail in the sitting room.

**qpqpqpqp**

"It's just a piece of paper, Harry. It won't bite."

It had been a week since the end of their OWLs. The last weekday meal was when they were given their own copy of the results, another having been sent to their parents that morning.

They'd all be treated to a variety of owls throughout the day, from howlers to chirping congratulations. Those few didn't have to open their letters, they already knew their results. As did the rest of the school.

He glanced over at Draco. Things had seemed to change in the blond since their visit with Pythia. Draco was more relaxed, easier to approach in some ways, but in others…Harry had been dreaming, almost every night since the visit, of pale silver eyes that were slit like a lizard's. They watched him in the darkness. They should have scared him, but it was quite the opposite. He'd felt safer than he had in years.

"I'll open mine with you," Neville offered. "C'mon Harry, on three?"

"Right, on three." He slid his thumb under the seal. "One, two, three!"

The letter open, he glanced over the text. Then he stopped and read it again. And again.

"Merlin's _pants_, Harry! I got E's! And an O! _Two _O's!" Neville waved his arms in the air. "I – I – wait till Gran sees this, I won't need the letters of recommendation anymore –,"

"What letters?" Blaise caught Neville's arm and snagged the results from his lax fist.

"Oh, I…um."

"Harry?" Draco leaned into his shoulder.

"I did well." He passed it over to Draco, noting the tremor in his hands. He had his good days and his bad days – it wasn't the best day ever, but by far not the worst.

"All E's and three O's." Draco let out a low whistle. "Almost as good as me. Well done, Potter."

He punched the blond on the shoulder, face flaming. "Prat, it's better than I could have ever hoped for."

"How'd you get an E in Divination?" Pansy peered over Draco's shoulder. "The woman they have now is almost as bad as Trelawney was."

"Neville?"

They all turned at the tone in Blaise's voice. Neville had his head down, staring at his hands.

"I, uh…" The former Gryffindor pushed his plate away with a sharp gesture and stood, startling them all. "I – I –," he snatched the letter from Blaise's hands. "I got to go show this to Professor Sprout. See you," he took off without a backwards glance.

"What's wrong with Neville?" Pansy leaned around the bulk of Draco's chest to peer at Harry. "Is this about that Herbology position up at Rosmerton Labs?"

Blaise's head whipped around. "What position?"

"You mean he hasn't told you?"

"No, I…" Blaise shook his head and rose from the table, striding out the same door Neville had fled through.

Harry turned to Draco. "You ever get the feeling that the whole day has gone to Hell in a hand basket and it's just going to get worse?"

"How in Merlin's name do you get to Hell in a hand basket?"

"Carefully, I suppose."

**qpqpqpqp**

"Neville?"

He hunched over the long row of primroses. They were late blooms, rare in the strange harsh fall that was pummeling the rest of the plants.

Hands settled on his shoulders, drawing him up and back from the plants. The dried, dead leaves fell from his hands.

"I…I'm sorry," he turned his face to the side. He could just see Blaise out of the corner of his eye.

The hands traveled down and slid around his waist. He was drawn against Blaise's chest.

"Talk to me?" The other boy asked.

Neville drew in a sharp breath and let it out. "I…I'm not very smart, you know? I mean, I don't test well, I never have. They make me nervous, then I can't concentrate, then I panic and I can't answer anything. It happens every time."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Blaise hooked his chin over Neville's shoulder. "I know you're brilliant, that's all that matters."

"No," Neville couldn't help the edge that entered his voice. It made Blaise tense. "It matters, Blaise. If I want – want to –," His throat closed and he tried to keep his eyes clear.

Blaise guided them over to a large bench and sat them down. He took Neville's hands in his. Neville couldn't meet his eyes.

"Tell me," Blaise said in that soft, deep voice Neville was helpless against.

"I love plants," he blinked fast to clear his eyes. "I've always loved plants. Professor Sprout saw it – she – she and I, there's this position in Rosmerton Labs, an assistant Herbology position that is contested every year. You get in, spend one year as an assistant and you're in, hired by the lab at an entry level position, or higher if they really like you. Professor Sprout worked there for years before she retired and came to Hogwarts. She's the one that thought I could do it first – she didn't care about my grades, she knew I understood plants." He glanced up, peering at Blaise through his lashes.

Blaise smiled at him, buffing their linked hands. "Professor Sprout is a smart lady," he agreed.

Neville felt his cheeks grow warm. "I – it's just…" He gulped down a breath. "We've been preparing for it since third year. I've been to interviews, I've passed their exams. They only hinge was Gran; she insisted I finish Hogwarts through my seventh year. Once I graduate, I've got the position. It's guaranteed."

"That's amazing," Neville risked another glance at Blaise. "It really is." Blaise ducked his head to catch Neville's eye.

"But – it's just…" Neville twisted his hands free to touch the bracelet, warm on his wrist. "It's up near Gran. I'd have a job, right out of school, but it pays crap, mostly for the first few years, and I know your family –,"

"Neville," Blaise caught his hands again. "It's all right." He slid down to kneel in front of the former Gryffindor. "I think it's wonderful. Amazing."

"But us…" Neville gripped Blaise's hands. "I don't want to – to force you anywhere. To make you choose."

"Neville, I'll be going into the family business," Blaise smiled at him. "It's something I can do anywhere, as long as I have an office to pitch the paperwork in, it's fine."

"But…"

"We're _wizards_, Neville. I can commute if worse comes to worst. And I won't mind. If you're doing something you love, then hey, let's _go_ for it. We'll make it work."

"Won't your family get mad?"

"Merlin, no." Blaise pushed into his personal space, curled warm hands around Neville's cheeks. "They'll be thrilled. They love expanding the offices."

"Y-you're sure?"

"Positive," Blaise kissed him, taking his breath away. Time always seemed to slow when Blaise touched him; his head swam, his heart raced and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Blaise shifted forward, sliding between Neville's knees to kneel up close to Neville's face. His face burned at the display, even through there was no one around to see them. The hot house was empty, only Neville and Professor Sprout had the keys to them. Neville had forgotten to lock the door behind him in his flight.

He was rather happy at that oversight, except… "Blaise," he pulled away a bit, finding his hands curled tight around in Blaise's jumper.

"What?" Teeth scraped against his neck. They had gone this far before, but not much more. Things always seemed to happen – his Gran would come home early, food would start to burn or boil – but in the dark silence of the hot house, there was nothing popping up to stop them, nothing except an unlocked door that bothered the hell out of Neville's healthy sense of paranoia.

"I…the door is…"

"What about it?"

"It's open."

"I know."

"Anybody could come in!"

Blaise huffed a laugh against the skin of Neville's throat. "That's true." His hands slid up from Neville's knees, pushing the former Gryffinddor against the hard line of the shelves at their back. Neville's uncertain eyes stared down at him, but he bent when Blaise nudged, spreading his knees wide, hands gripping the high line of the shelf for balance.

Neville felt ridiculous, but by the heat in Blaise's eyes, it was anything but.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry was dreaming.

He was getting better at telling different kinds of dreams apart. Normal dreams ran like movies in his mind, simple or complex, but never enough to pull him from the lethargic state to something that was close to awareness.

This was a different dream. He stood on a familiar green path. It no longer pulsed under his feet. The door – the mind – that lay at the journey's end was gone, vanished.

The Dark was silent. Nothing moved. Harry could not hear the scrape of his shoes against the ethereal ground. There was nothing – at first.

In the distance, as if coming to him from far away, a scream tore through the air. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He knew that voice, he knew that scream. Somewhere, someone was dying and the Morrigan feasted on their bones.

But then the scream changed, from victory to pain – the scream of a crow/goddess/creature in agony. He put his hands over his ears, but it didn't help. The sound drilled down to his bones, settling ice where blood should have been.

Then the scream changed again, becoming something other, something…brassy? A trumpet call, a horn, crying defiance into the night – no – the Black…The Black Manor rose up from the mists around him, the gleaming windows like piercing eyes, all focused on him.

The call came from the flung open front doors. It came from the Manor, lighting up the sky and grounds around it with a golden glow. Harry wanted to move forward. Needed to move forward. He needed to get into the house. He needed the horn, the sound, he needed –

"Harry?"

The dream shattered as he jerked awake, hands flailing as he fell off the couch.

"Harry?" Draco knelt at his side, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Fine. I'm fine. Just a dream."

"A dream."

"Yes, one –," he glanced up at the blond. "I think I need another journal," he said it with a sigh.

Draco settled in next to him. "What do you mean?"

Harry ran his hands over his face. "It was like a dream-dream, but also like a future dream."

Draco's eyebrows came together. "Perhaps it is something that _may_ happen, but only if certain _other_ things happen." Draco gave a slow nod. "Yes, a look into a future of might and maybe could perhaps feel like that. It is part true and part speculation."

Harry gave him a long look. "What have you been doing in your spare time?"

"What spare time?" Draco curled a grin at him. "But it would make sense? It's a good idea to keep it in another journal though." The blond wrinkled his nose. "We'll need an assistant."

"An assistant?"

"Of course."

"What for?"

"What use is it to write down your dreams if they are not organized and archived, indexed and cross checked?"

"…That's mad."

"No, not for us, but for an assistant, perhaps."

"Draco!"

"Would you rather they languish in journals, lost, when we could need them the most?"

"You…politician."

"Why, thank you, Harry."

He huffed out a laugh at the proud gleam in Draco's eye. "I –,"

"Harry?"

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Then, "Yes, Ginny?"

"Sirius is here to see you."

He scrambled to his feet, Draco right behind him. "Sirius is here? As in the castle? Really?" The animagus must have gotten the OWL results early. "Where?" He allowed himself a little hope. Sirius hadn't said a word about Healer Fondorn's visit all through the week. Harry had even written his godfather a longer than usual letter, sending out a hope for trust and a truce between them. Sirius had seemed to respond well to the letter.

He had a fluttering feeling in his stomach.

"He's outside," Ginny glanced at Draco. "It'd be best if he didn't see you. He's still…upset."

A muscle moved in Draco's jaw. "The feeling is mutual, I do believe."

"Draco," he turned to the blond.

"I'll wait here for you," Draco cut a cold look at Ginny. "If you need me, call."

"I will," Harry curled his hands into the long sleeves of his jumper. He followed Ginny out into the hall. The younger girl, he noted, had stashed her cane somewhere and was limping along on her own.

The animagus was pacing in tight circles when they arrived. They were settled off to one side corridor that led to a warren of old, unused classrooms and storage areas. The tight, severe lines of Sirius' face made the hope in Harry's chest flutter and fail.

"Sirius?"

"Harry!" Sirius spun so fast it made Harry twitch back. "What is the meaning of this?" He waved a letter in the air.

"I…My OWL results? You don't –"

"I don't bloody care about your OWL's, Harry! This report from Healer Fondorn says you're at it _again_. He's spent all week clearing the way for me to move you into St. Mungo's! What did you _do_?"

"_Me_?" Harry's stomach had dropped out on him. So had the floor. "_I_ didn't do anything! He was the one who wanted to take me off someplace by himself –"

"Harry Potter –"

"All he does is poke and prod my side, which leave _bruises_, Sirius, not that you've ever cared to notice, but they do! None of his cure-alls worked – Madam Pomfrey's potions have done more for my throat and nerves than anything that _hack_ did!"

Where the rage came from, Harry wasn't sure. But it bubbled up from his chest, red hot and waiting to lash out at the older man.

"How _dare_ you take that tone with me!"

"You've _never_ believed me, have you? All I am is a walking ghost for some man I can't even remember!"

"Don't you dare dishonor your father's memory!"

"I never had a father!" Harry's nails cut into his palms. "That's what _you_ were supposed to be!"

"I would _never_ take James' place!"

"Just like you'll never believe me when I say I dream the future!"

"Harry, you _don't_ dream about the future. You're no longer taking the Vision Potion. There's no more Dark Lord. It's _over_, Harry, give it up. Let someone else be the hero, you're just a boy!"

"I _know_ that, but I can't help it! Professor Snape _said_ the potion had a chance to change things. Stuff _happened_, Sirius, stuff that changed me. Can't you understand that?"

"Because of _course_ the sainted Snape always tells the truth."

"Yes, he does." Harry didn't understand the brief glimpse of fury on the animagus' face. "Sirius, _please_. Let me explain –"

"No. _No_, Harry. No more. You are _never_ to dream or predict the future, ever again." Sirius seemed to loom in the sudden, shocked silence. "You are _done_ with it, Harry. No more. You're to be a normal, _happy_ wizard, just like James. You'll get better, heal up and play Quidditch again. You'll smile and laugh and have _normal_ friends. That's what families are supposed to _do_, Harry. They don't get mauled by Dark Lords and then go off envisioning the future, seeing trouble where there is _nothing_. You're wrong, Harry. Wrong."

"….Sirius," Harry's throat felt hot and tight. "Please, I'm _sorry_ I'm not normal, I'm _sorry_ –"

"Don't be _sorry_, Harry." Sirius' eyes were so cold. "Choose, Harry. You can't have it both ways. It's this family or – or these…delusions you obsess over."

"They're not delusions."

"Choose, Harry! The dreams or us!"

"Sirius, _please_ –," he reached one hand out towards his godfather.

"You write me when you've come to a decision." Sirius' scowl cut deep lines into the skin around his mouth and eyes. "_Ginny_ has done everything Healer Fondorn asked of her. Ginny is recovering by leaps and bounds. You're the one clinging to some m-madness of your own making."

"I'm not mad," Harry croaked.

"I'll fend off Fondorn off for now, but Harry," the anger seemed to flood out of the man. "Harry, this was all supposed to be different. You were supposed to be happy, to _want_ to come home with me…"

"I did. I do."

"It doesn't seem like it." The animagus shook his head, some of the ire returning to his eyes. "I just don't know what to do with you anymore, Harry. It was all supposed to be so different…" He trailed off. "This is useless, Harry. I won't stand for it any longer. You have to choose. Your lies or me." Sirius' face was twisted into an ugly expression. Harry bowed his head, hands clenched at his sides.

"I choose…"

"Figure it out, Harry," Sirius cut in before he could finish. "Make the _right_ decision." Sirius tightened his jaw, glanced them over once and strode off.

Harry's legs went out from under him. _I dreamt this_, he realized, watching the older man's back as it vanished down the hallway. _I __**dreamt**__ this_.

"Sirius? Father – Dad! Wait!" Ginny took off, managed to run a few steps after the man. Sirius paused, catching her against his side as she reached him. He wrapped an arm around her as they moved off, heads bent close together.

It was a long time before Harry could find the energy to get to his feet and stumble back to the warmth of the Common Room.

**qpqpqpqp**

"How is young Mr. Potter?"

Severus glanced over at Lucius. The Malfoy patriarch was lounging in one of the chairs nearest the hearth, boots propped up on the ratty ottoman Severus refused to throw out.

"He has had better days," he replied. Draco had come to him hours before, the pure, furious rage of his magic enough to stop Severus in his tracks. He'd guided the young blond to one of the training rooms to work out his ire on wooden bodies instead of flesh. It had helped, at least the pure physical part of the anger. Draco's scathing report of Black's newest blunder was enough to singe more jaded ears. Severus hadn't had the heart to upbraid the boy for his language. Severus was cursing the man right along with him.

"Will he recover?"

"The ability of Mr. Potter's to recover from almost any situation should be put up for consideration as an universal constant."

"Shaken that badly then?"

"The boy already has fears that he is going mad. Draco reports it _is_ a possibility, from what _he_ has learned from their teachers in the Otherworld. Harry does not need an unstable idiot who tries to force him into some familial mold he has planned for them all." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the migraine threaten to return.

"And Draco?" Lucius tilted his head to one side.

"Your son's maturity grows by leaps and bounds."

A pleased smile cut Lucius' face. "He _is_ a Malfoy."

"You should be thankful he did not inherit any of the Black hysterical madness." The words were out of his mouth before he could think to stop them. Severus winced and closed his eyes. Narcissa was never a good topic between them.

He expected a sharp reply. He got silence instead. Cautious, he cracked open an eye to see his lover facing the fire, anger absent from the lines of his shoulders and jaw.

"Lucius?"

"I am worried."

Both eyebrows rose at the tone. Severus put down his grading pen and moved to join the blond by the fire.

"How so?"

"The temple to all gods should have been built by now," long fingers drummed against the armrest. "Draco and I have planned for its unveiling at Samhain. Ground was to be struck at Lughnasa. Instead I am still battling my way through ridiculous councils and committees while Rufus refuses to commit either way."

"You believe they are going to go behind your back?"

"A fool would do so. Even if they had been raising the money for the project for years, they would have to out bid _my _contractors, who are well paid indeed. No, I am more worried about this resurgence of muggle-born wizards coming back for the vote."

"Lucius…"

"Hear me out, Severus." He was speared by an irritated look. "You already know my stance on such things – but it all ties in. They return to the muggle world, lead muggle lives and hide in their muggle houses when things in our world, _our world_, Severus become dark and dangerous. They did _nothing_ to fight the Dark Lord, nothing to help the wizarding world – why let them vote now?"

"Because we are civilized, Lucius. You know better than this. What is the real reason you are worried?"

"Things are _happening_ again, Severus," Lucius tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "The world – both worlds – are in an uproar. Old sites of worship are being attacked. Did you hear a section of St. Peter's collapsed when an angry god found his temple site turned to rubble by angry Catholics? The muggles are being forced to see something they have not accepted for over a thousand years. The wizarding world is no better, for all our confidence with magic."

Severus leaned back in his seat. "You fear the rise of another Dark Lord."

"Another _something_ is coming, we _know_ that, Severus. What has me almost out of my mind is the ignorance of the public. They think everything will be _fine_."

"And we know better."

That earned him another dark look. "Experience teaches us to know better, Severus."

"And this ties into the temple, how?"

"A major temple brings with it the _history_ of gods and culture, Severus. If we include them all, people _will_ remember the bloody wars fought in their name. We'll hand out pamphlets if need be. We can't keep on forgetting these things anymore. We're too few as it is."

Severus spread his hands with a sigh. "You know I agree with you."

"Help me find a way to convince that bloody Scrimgeour then."

"A nice stunner to the head might work."

"Don't tempt me."

**qpqpqpqp**

It was night and Harry slept. The room spun around him. His eyes were blurry, there were too many hands on him, gripping his clothes, strapping him down to a hard bed. His ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. The back of his right hand burned.

The people babbled at him, but he couldn't understand what they wanted from him. It felt like they were trying to pull him in two. His chest ached. They held a cloth over his mouth and nose. It smelled sweet, like candy. The world spun faster around him.

He saw Sirius, with tears on his cheeks. His face stung from a slap, delivered by Ginny. He saw snow falling from his bedroom window at the Black Manor. The horn was loud enough to drown out the words of Sirius and Ginny who sat on either side of him.

The ground shook, the Manor faded away. Hard, dusty ground bit into his palms. The huts of Gwenn's village were full of life; smoke poured from the rock chimneys. Lights danced from the thick glass windows.

Then the ground turned muddy. Rain beat down on him. He was wearing Quidditch gear, but instead of a broom he held a sword. Shapes moved in the rain, shadows he could not place names to. The phrase rang in his head – _You must call. You __**must **__call._ But he didn't know who or what, and the voices laughed instead of answering.

He woke up screaming, snarling at the voices, cursing them to the bloody pits of hell. The echo of their mirth chased the chill that ran down his spine.

It took Draco the rest of the night to calm him down. Even in the blond's arms, Harry could still hear them, muttering, just out of reach.

End Chapter Twenty-Nine


	30. Chapter 30: The Return of Rayne

Chapter Thirty: The Return of Rayne

A small tap at his office door drew Severus' attention. "Enter," he set a graded pile of papers to the edge of his desk. He was not pleased with his most current crop of seventh year students.

A dark head peeked around the door. Green eyes blinked at him as Harry eased into the room. The first classes of the week were over – Severus had not expected Draco to let the boy out of his sight. _Not after that little display of rage he put on this weekend_.

"Ah, Professor Snape, um…Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I, uh," Harry closed the door behind him with a soft sound. "I – uh, was wondering – you know," there was a flush covering the boy's cheeks and nose.

"One word at a time please, Harry. What is it you need?"

That caused the boy to duck his head and go mute. Severus cursed Black to the lowest depths of hell for the hundredth time as he rose from behind his desk. He did not crowd the boy against the door – he walked to the crackling fire instead, taking a seat on the couch.

"Harry?"

Potter drifted closer to him, eyes and hands reaching for the warmth of the fire. The boy had a thick shirt on under his jumper and still looked chilled.

"Remember when you said you thought I needed to talk to someone?" Harry was at the hearth, arms wrapped tight around his middle.

"Yes, I do."

Harry ducked his head and canted a look at Severus. "I – is there any way to get Auror Rayne here to the castle?"

A small weight eased from Severus' chest. "Of course, Harry. I apologize for not having thought of it sooner."

"No…no, it's all right. We were all busy," the boy shook his head, his bangs falling into his eyes. "I don't – I don't think I could have dealt with both the studying and talking to Auror Rayne at the same time. It would have been…too much."

"But you would like to speak to him now."

"If he would still listen."

"He will," _even if I have to make him_.

"Thank you, sir." Severus was expecting the boy to hurry for the door. Harry stayed near the fire instead, shooting small glances at him from time to time.

"You are welcome to stay, if you wish," Severus had sounded the offer out in his head before speaking. "Young Mr. Malfoy, however, may become worried."

"Draco knows I came here," Harry caught his lower lip between his teeth. "He's got a pile of ancient runes homework this week. He and Blaise are neck deep in it."

"And you find yourself at loose ends?"

Harry said nothing, the sharp up and down motion of his shoulder his only answer.

Severus let out a long breath. "You may stay," he rose. "I fear I will be of little entertainment, however. I have grading to finish."

"That's all right."

Severus settled himself behind his desk, watching the boy out of the corner of his eye. Harry pulled up the ottoman and sat, knees curled to his chest, arms locked tight, watching the fire.

It wasn't long before Severus was forced to rise and scoop the boy off the cushion and settle him on the couch. _It wouldn't do to let the boy fall to the floor_, he spread an old throw over the thin teen.

_After all, it is what any Head of House would do, is it not_?

**qpqpqpqp**

Ginny threw her brush across the room. It hit the far wall with a resounding crack and slid down behind the chair near the hearth.

She wanted to scream. She wanted the wall to be Harry. She wanted to _smack_ him as hard as she dared with her cane. She wanted to snarl at him. She wanted to cry.

Hot on the heels of her rage came the guilt and confusion. She sank down next to her bed, hands planted against the ground. _Things weren't supposed to be this way_! She slapped the ground, causing her hand to sting. _It wasn't_!

Sirius – her father was a mess. The problem with Harry had him all turned around. Remus had written to her, saying that he was taking Sirius away for a small vacation. It made her feel guilty, it made her mad. Fathers weren't supposed to take _vacations_ from their children. He wasn't supposed to blow up at one of them and then hide away until _he_ was better. He –

_Shut up, Ginny_, she closed her eyes for a moment, breathing hard through her nose. _Just – think about it. Harry upset him so much. He's had so much to deal with. He – he still has problems from Azkaban. It'll be fine. It _will_ be fine. You just have to figure out a way to fix this_.

She opened her eyes. "Harry has to stop this," she told the silent room. Then she flinched and shook her head. "But if it _is_ true…" She wasn't blind. She saw the upper years form a guard around Harry. She saw the signals appearing on the lentils of their dorm room doors. Everything she saw spoke to her of preparation – but against what, she didn't know and wasn't sure if the others would tell her now if she asked.

_Of course they will_, a part of her chided. _They are loyal, more loyal than any others you have ever seen. They would tell you…if you asked_.

That was part of the problem. A part of her didn't want to ask. A part of her wanted the fighting and the danger to be over. She'd had her adventures. Now she wanted to rebuild her family. _I know this is how Father feels, why can't Harry understand this_?

A darker, more cynical side of her muttered that Harry had no idea what family was, so how _could_ he know how to rebuild it? The more childish side of her didn't care. She _wanted_ the perfect image that had been held in front of her all summer. She wanted them all together, happy, healthy and whole.

She wanted it and by Merlin she was going to get it. _Harry just has to understand, is all_. _ I have to make him understand that he's family and you have to try your hardest for your family. He'll understand. He has to_.

A tentative plan formed, she wrinkled her nose. She chose to crawl over to the chair instead of getting up. Her knee was already a fiery knot of pain. She had no wish of trying to get up at the moment.

Besides she needed to get down on her belly to find the brush anyhow.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Is Harry off to see Professor Snape?"

"Yes," Draco finished the last of his ancient runes homework with a satisfied sigh.

Blaise closed his textbook and set it aside. "Where do you want to do this?"

"Where's Neville?"

"With Professor Sprout. He'll be there until dinner."

"Good." Together they rose and picked up their work. They ambled off towards their rooms, their stride becoming brisk once their materials were tucked away.

"What now?"

"This," Draco took him down the long hall. It turned right, the candles in the scones flaring to a sputtering light as they passed. A few more twists and they were in the oldest sections of the dorms.

"I've never been down here before," Blaise peered around.

"We found it last year when we were bolstering the wards. It's from the founder's time."

Blaise let out a low whistle. "There are work rooms here?"

"The only ones left in the castle, as far as we can tell." Draco unlocked the heavily warded door. Runes were set into the ebony wood, both in sliver and in platinum. They stepped through the portal and into another time.

Draco had done much research during Harry's absence, both before and after. His books had led him to the old room his father had little use for, and no memory of anyone ever using it. Slate lined the entire room. A circle, inlaid into the stone, stood proud in the center of the room. The one in Malfoy Manor had been pure silver.

The one in the Slytherin dorms were made of platinum.

The workrooms were from a time when magic was more potent in the world. Even regular muggles had seen it, accepted it to some degree. It was everywhere in folk tales, myths of heroes and warrior wizards, gods and goddesses, creating miracles in front of ordinary eyes. Draco had a theory that somewhere along the line, magic had been drained from the world, or walled away, so that only their dwindling race, the witches and wizards left in the world were the only ones left who could touch that power that once lay everywhere.

Mystic symbols were carved into the walls of the Hogwarts workroom. Created to shield the practitioner from both the outside and shield the outside from what went on inside, it was an ideal place for Draco to start his experiments.

Ones he knew Harry would throw a fit about if he found out about them.

"What now?" Blaise understood his need to help Harry. Neither of them had wanted to tell Neville…yet. Both the ex-Gryffindors would be told of their explorations – _after_ they had figured out which way worked best.

"Calling up a door the nameless Dark is easy," Draco set down a small leather bag. He'd accumulated a kit over the hours, days and weeks of research he'd done.

"The nameless Dark," Blaise repeated, one brow arched.

"It actually does have names," Draco ignored the other boy's tone. "Using names gets us to places. We _want_ to find the chaotic Dark, not some village that's popped up out of antiquity."

"Right," Blaise crouched at his side. "What do you need me to do?"

"Set these at the cardinal points," Draco poured four marbles into the boy's hand.

"Marbles?"

"They were what I had a the time and I like how they feel."

"…Right."

Draco spared a moment to roll his eyes at Blaise before settling down to work. It was true that most of his things were not very…traditional. But in his experimenting, he had taken what he could find and used them to such an extent that the idea of changing them out made him frown. It was _his_ procedure. He wasn't ashamed of it at all.

Even if he'd used some of his old childhood toys as anchors. It gave him _character_, damn it.

Between the cardinal points he set up the snapped off pieces of toys he'd collected. They would bind the gate between the points, drawing it to earthly focuses and not letting it warp. Warping was bad. The one time Draco had allowed it to happen, he had almost died.

He was rather proud of the fact that neither his father nor Severus knew of the fact. They would have never let him continue if they did.

Warping wasn't much of a factor anymore. Draco could build the base of a gate in his sleep – he was sure he had at times too. No, what he needed now was a way to allow things on the other side of the gate to pass through to this side – to go from the Otherworld to his world, without him on that side of the gate.

"Done, now what?" Blaise said.

"The chalk. Do you have the diagrams?"

"Yes."

"Good."

It was based on some of the more alchemical books he'd found in his great-great grandfather's private library. There had been a host of other texts on something called the Kabbalah, but Draco wasn't too keen on that system. Anything that had words greater than fifteen syllables in length was a bit much for him. He much preferred Latin.

It took a while, with some correcting on Blaise's section, but they got it done. Both were sweaty and stripped to bare shirtsleeves by the time they were done. Draco wiped the sweat from his chin with his shoulder.

"Are you sure about this?" Blaise was eyeing the elaborate circle.

"Almost positive," Draco wasn't going to lie. Not about this. "The inner circle, there? That's a protection spell for me. It will hold the Dark in that small space. We've left only a small pace for it to interact in. The rest of the circles bolster the gate and the protection circles. That last one," Draco pointed. "Specifically used incase the Dark breaks free of the first circle."

"What about you?"

Draco held up his hands. "That's what the ink job was for."

His father would surely be furious if he could see Draco now. Runes were painted onto his skin, marching up from the tips of his fingers to halfway past his wrists. It would take a lot of scrubbing to get off, but Draco was siding on the better side of caution and paranoia. Just in case.

"Right, but I reserve the right to call you a bloody fool if this goes poorly."

"You'll have to get in line, I'm afraid," Draco shook his head. "Right, let's do this."

He stepped into the circles, taking care not to smudge any of the careful lines. Activating the gate was simple.

The rest was the difficult part.

The gate roared to life around him. One of the more dangerous aspects was how close he was to the magic that created the gate. It raised the small hairs on his arms, causing him to shiver.

The dawning Dark spread out in the small space where the gate had sprang to life. It flooded into the circle. That part of the spell had worked. His jaw ached as he watched the circle fill, tension thrumming through him. If it broke – if the circle failed to hold –

It met the limit. It kept coming. Draco could feel it strain against the bonds of his magic. The circles around him flared to brilliant life, the vibrant colors of the chalks casting colored light on the dark gray walls.

The circle held. The Dark swirled in its trap, furious and mad, looking for a way out. Draco was about to give it one.

He touched the appropriate rune. A small jet of Dark came rushing at him He let it come.

The floor seemed to go out from under him. There was no light, no sound, nothing. There was something breathing in the Dark with him, something huge and hot, with moist foul breath that battered his skin on every exhale.

This was _not_ part of the plan.

Rage pushed away the fear that had frozen him in place. His magic roared through his veins. The same odd, stretching feeling swept through his bones. He though the heard something whimper in the Dark.

Then the world came rushing back around him. He fell to the floor in a heap, knees unable to hold him up.

"Draco? Draco!"

The Dark fled through the gate, wiggling like a thousand angry serpents as it was sucked back to the world it belonged in.

"Draco Malfoy!"

He turned his head to find Blaise standing with Neville and Harry. He blinked – or at least he thought he blinked – and tried to smile.

"Busted, eh?" And then he fainted.

**qpqp**

Harry shifted his grip on the hand he held. Draco glanced at him and forced a smile.

"That was," Harry's throat felt tight. "You – you – that was so stupidly Gryffindor of you, Draco Malfoy!" To emphasize his displeasure he smacked his irritating boyfriend upside the head. The others were too busy gawking at him to flinch.

"Harry!" Draco rubbed at the offending spot. "I already apologized." A grin lit his face. "You sounded positively Slytherin right now. We're so proud."

"Draco!" He would have thrown his hands into the air – but that would have meant letting go of the hand he held and he wasn't about to do that. Not for a while.

He'd been dreaming about falling into the Dark. He hadn't been scared, because he'd heard the sound of leathery wings – how and why he'd known what the wings were made of he was not sure – but he had not been afraid.

Until the sound of wings had disappeared. Severus had let him go without a word, and Harry had met Neville in the hall. Both of them had made their way into the dorm – when Harry had seen the empty study tables he _knew_. Neville hadn't bothered to ask- he merely let Harry lead the way into the warren of dusty halls, until they'd found the workrooms and let themselves in.

_Of all the damn foolish things_, Harry gulped down a shout. The blond had come around quick enough – they hadn't dared call an adult. Harry knew what Professor Snape would have to say about their antics.

Harry had had enough of being shouted at for one month.

Draco ran his free hand over his face and turned to the others. "Could we have the room, please?"

"Sure," Blaise rose to his feet. Neville's fierce look did little to rattle his composure. Harry almost envied the two that had been brought up in Slytherin from their first year – there was no way Harry would have been able to hold it together under a glare like that.

Once they were gone, Draco turned to face Harry. They were in the middle of the now-ruined circle. The chalk lines were dark and faded in places. Two of the marbles Draco had used as anchors had cracked and shattered to dust.

Harry hoped Draco understood just how close he had come to losing everything.

Pale eyes studied Harry. "You're still angry."

He let out a breath. "Yes and no."

"Because I risked this."

"Because you could have _died_, idiot."

That got him a narrow-eyed look. "Harry," Draco's jaw flexed. "Will you let me explain this before you blow up?"

Harry gripped the hand he was holding tighter. "I'm not going to blow up," he shook his bangs out of his eyes. "You _scared_ me, Draco." He lowered his eyes. "I can't – I couldn't – you…"

The world tilted and Harry found himself breathless on the floor. The blond's lunge had knocked them over, splayed out across the broken lines of power.

"Let me explain," Draco murmured into the soft skin of Harry's neck.

"All right."

"If you're going to be angry at anyone, then be angry at Homer."

"Who – Why him?"

"It was his idea."

"It was?"

"Well, not exactly, but he gave me the idea."

"And this absolves you of responsibility?"

"Of course not, but it's still not my fault."

"…That makes no sense."

"I'm still explaining here."

Harry could feel Draco's smile. "Sorry, sorry. Explain away."

Draco shifted them until they were as comfortable as they could hope to be on the rock surface. "You risk the Dark every time you go…elsewhere." Draco laced their fingers together. "Homer had a point when he told me that in order to keep you grounded, I would have to know the places that you go."

"But that's…"

"Hush, Harry. I know it probably seems foolish, but he's right. How am I supposed to find you in all of the Dark if I never go as well?'

"Then we'll go together. Idiot."

That earned him a poke in the ribs. "That _was_ the plan."

"Then why…?"

"I wanted to test it first."

"You could have been _killed_, Draco."

"I was fine."

"Two of your anchors broke."

"I still had two circles of protection up."

"Merlin save me from paranoid Slytherins."

"You're one of us now, Harry. Don't forget."

Harry curled a hand into Draco's shirt. "How could I?"

"Harry…"

"We'll go together," he cut Draco off.

"What?"

"If you're so set about this – fine. But don't do this again, Draco." He poked the blond in the side, causing him to yelp and squirm. "Don't you _ever_ do something like that again. We're in this together, damn it. I can't – I _can't_ lose you, Draco. Not you too. If you di-,"

Hand curled around his cheeks. Draco's mouth covered his. Harry closed his eyes and held on tight, pulling them chest to chest, until it felt like there was no breath of space between them.

_I will never let you go_, he curled his arms around Draco's neck. _ Never in a million years._

**qpqpqpqp**

"Harry?"

He looked up at the sound of his name. Professor Snape stood at the end of their study table. Draco blinked up at their Head of House, quill hovering over his notes, a steady splat of ink mucking up his notes.

"Draco," Harry nudged his foot. The blond glanced down and swore, wand flicking over the mess.

"Sir?" He turned his attention back to the Potions Master.

"Auror Rayne is here to see you."

"He is?" Harry set down his quill. "I – is he going to come in here?"

"I thought it would be best if you were to utilize my office. I will, of course, be elsewhere."

"Thank you, sir." They had the Common Room to themselves – an oddity for that time of day, and something Harry knew would not last. He wanted to speak to John – just not in front of all of his Housemates. Even if they would never say a word to anyone about it.

Draco gave his foot an encouraging nudge. The blond thought it was a good thing for Harry to speak to the Auror, he'd been championing the subject for weeks when he thought he'd be able to get a word in on the topic.

Harry nudged the foot back and stood, leaving his books and notes on the table. "I – uh, don't know when I'll be back," he eyed his homework.

"Go," Draco flicked his fingers at him. "I've enough work to do in Ancient Runes as it is."

"I thought you finished that?"

"Yes, but I need to be ahead, Harry. Really, now."

He swatted at Draco's head, but the other boy laughed and ducked out of reach.

"This way, Harry," Professor Snape's voice cut in.

"Yes, sir." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and followed the older wizard to his office.

Severus stopped just shy of the door. Dark eyes stared down at him. "Should you need me, Mr. Potter, merely shout. I will not have you come to harm."

"Thank you, sir," he had to look away.

"Auror Rayne is inside," a billowing sleeve swept the way for him. He stepped forward, gripped the knob and walked through the door.

**qpqp**

Severus folded is hands inside of his sleeves, staring at the wide expanse of wood that barred him from his office.

_ I should have taken those quizzes from my desk_, the small, responsible part of his mind chided. _Now you'll be up half the night to finish them_.

He ignored the voice. Potter…Harry had needed a secure place to speak to the Auror. Albus had offered his office, but Severus was leery of having Harry speak where Phineas Nigellus Black could listen. Portraits always were such gossipy things, even the old Headmasters, addled by their years, would take a wander off through the other paintings. He had often wondered how Albus kept them from spilling the Order's secrets for so many years.

"He'll be fine."

Draco had joined him at his silent contemplation of the door. He hadn't heard the boy's approach. _Sloppy, Severus_._ You should know better_.

"Of course he will be," he answered.

Draco tilted his head to one side. The pale eyes were narrowed with a look Severus knew far too well.

"What are you planning, Draco?"

Pale eyes shifted to him. "I'm not planning anything," a smile that would have done a shark proud beamed up at him.

"Draco."

"Though, wouldn't you say it would be better if Harry and that idiot Black patched things back up?"

He rounded on the boy. "What madness is this?"

"Hear me out," the smile never dimmed. "Harry won't think of it because he's still too Gryffindor in a lot of ways, but think – we know Black has that bloody Healer held over Harry's head. All Harry has to do to avoid that nasty issue is to lie to the man."

"Harry had to lie all summer, Draco."

The smile vanished. "I know," it came out on a sigh. "But it's the only way I can see Harry avoiding Black's idiocy with ay degree of sanity."

"He doesn't like to lie to his…family."

Draco's hand cut through the air. "We are his family," the proud chin tilted up. "I have no idea what's going through Lupin or Ginny's minds, but Harry has never lied to use. He _trusts_ us," he canted a look at Severus. "Which means we have to trust him, Severus. And not lie to him, even when we would rather."

"Gryffindors," Severus felt the muscle in his jaw tighten.

"Yes."

They both studied the closed door. "Have you spoken to him of it?"

"I was going to wait until after the good Auror left. Harry would feel obligated to tell the man of his plans."

"Rayne has as little love for Black as we do."

"Yes, but the whole lying-to-his-godfather plan might impugn on his sense of moral decency."

"So?"

"I'll speak to Harry after and get him to write to Black before he speaks to Rayne again."

"Harry will see through you."

"Of course he will and then he'll agree to do it."

Severus stifled a sigh.

"It is the best plan we have."

"A sad, but true, fact."

Conversation died between them. They both waited in front of the door until the sound of returning students shook them from their posts.

Severus had been right. He was up late studying the papers that had set idle – and blank – on his desk.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry studied the slanted script of the letter.

"Did it work?" Draco peered over his shoulder.

"It seems it has," he set it aside, letting Draco snatch it up.

"They went to Italy?"

"To the villa on Capri."

A pale eyebrow rose. "I can't believe they got all the lands back in the settlement."

"He is Sirius Black. There is nothing he do wrong in the public's eye." Even to his own ears it sounded bitter.

"Harry?"

Ginny stood just behind them. Both hands were clasped tight around her cane.

"Yes?"

"You – you really did it? You wrote to Father?"

He felt Draco's hand settle in the small of his back. "Yes, Ginny. I wrote to Sirius."

"Oh, Harry!" She threw herself forward, arms going around his neck, knocking the breath out of him. "You have no idea how happy this makes me! Father won't be mad anymore! You'll come home!"

"Yeah, Gin. It'll be fine, now." Harry worked his jaw, hoping she missed the tightness in his voice.

She drew back, her eyes bright. "Is he coming home? Are we going to spend Samhain together?"

"No, Remus is keeping him in Capri," his heart twisted at the way the hope dimmed in her eyes. "We'll – ah, we'll spend it together, eh?"

"Really?"

"Really."

"Harry!" She hugged him again with a squeal of joy. He met Draco's gaze over her shoulder. The blond's expression was wry, but resigned. They'd planned on spending Samhain together, but Harry knew Sirius wouldn't trust him right off the bat. They would need a witness to prove he was trying his hardest at being Sirius' perfected image of James Potter's son.

Even if the whole plan made him mad enough to spit nails.

Ginny drew back once more. "Oh, I can't wait to tell Pansy and Millicent!" She jiggled in place. "Maybe…" Her gaze darted between Harry and Draco. "Maybe we can all, ah, celebrate together?"

Harry felt some of the tightness leave his chest. "Sure, Gin. Pansy and Millicent, Blaise and Neville too. Everyone who wants to join in can come."

"A House party!" Her eyes lit up. "Pansy will go _mad_! We have so little time to prepare!" She spotted the two older girls as they entered the Great Hall. "Pansy!" She took off without a backwards glance.

"I didn't think she had it in her," Draco murmured.

"Maybe she'll come around."

"Perhaps." The hand at his back pressed tight. It was enough to know that Ginny wanted the whole House together. Perhaps he would not have to hide as much as he feared.

He turned back to his breakfast in a much better mood. The guarded letter from Sirius was gone, probably folded away into one of Draco's pockets. They had a lesson with Pythia that weekend. Auror Rayne would return the next week for another session with Harry. October was almost at an end, the month having flown by before Harry's eyes.

As a crack of thunder broke overhead, Harry had a moment of hope. _Maybe things will get better from here on out_.

End Chapter Thirty


	31. Chapter 31: Politics

Chapter Thirty-One: Politics

The crowd was more restless than usual. Rufus ran a jaded eye over the pale faces turned towards his platform. Fudge's supporters had grown quiet during their debate; as was the rule, each of the candidates had to participate in at least one open-forum debate before the vote. Fudge's camp had put the date off again and again until they were on the wire. It was November first – they had run out of time.

It was perfect for Rufus.

Their last question had come from his plant in the audience. Just as he had planned.

"What are your views on the temple to all gods?"

The question had been directed for Fudge to answer first. Rufus had watched with much pleasure as the man's face paled, and he began to stutter his way through the answer.

"It – it is, of course, an important topic," Fudge glanced down at his podium. He shuffled together a stack of notes. "Now is not the time for the wizarding world to be divided," his voice gained some strength. He seemed to be reading from a card.

"Tell us something we don't know!" The hecklers had been extraordinarily patient during their debate. It was strange enough to set Rufus' nerves on edge.

"But it's also not the time for us to bring more instability to our world," Fudge frowned and shuffled through the papers once more. "We – we are –," the sound of the shuffling was picked up by the announcement spell. There were titters running through the crowd.

"Thirty seconds, sir," their prompter intoned.

"Yes, yes, of course." Fudge took a deep breath and abandoned his notes. "We are at a time when the wizarding world needs a solid, stable basis, one in which everyone, every witch and wizard, can use to launch their futures from. This temple does little more than promote chaos and insubordination where there needs to be unity and conformity. Thank you."

"Thank you, Minister Fudge. Your response, Mr. Scrimgeour?"

Rufus laid his hands on the edge of the podium. "Chaos and insubordination, eh?" He quirked an eyebrow at the crowd. There was a quiet ripple of laughter. "I don't know about you," he nodded at the crowd. "But when I start to hear the words of conformity coming from my government leaders, I start to get a little uneasy."

There was more laugher, and some shouted agreements from the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I do have to agree with Minister Fudge on one of his declarations – the wizarding world is at a time when we all need to come together. To hold fast to our traditions, to embrace the changes that are taking place, to face these new developments together and not let them splinter us and divide our ranks."

There was applause. He wetted his lips and waited for the lull.

"The temple to all gods is exactly that, ladies and gentlemen. A temple to all gods," he rose up on his toes and settled back on his heels. "It is not something that is meant to divide us, but to bring us together. This is the unity we need, when all gods have come back to this world." He raised a hand for the spike of hisses from the crowd. "Even you, our muggle-born contingent, can understand this need. Where else will our traditions take hold? Where else will everyone's opinion have a place to be heard? Yes," he met the angry gazes of a few in the front. "Everyone's opinion. Everyone's beliefs. All held as sacred, all held as divine and beautiful."

There was a mixed cheer. Rufus could almost feel the weakening confusion coming from the crowd. Now was the time.

"As such, it gives me great pleasure to announce to you all that the temple to all gods will be built, here, just off Diagon Alley. Gringotts has come forward to offer the land and the creation of a new side alley, all done by their own stonemasons' hands. This is the power that we can have when we come together, ladies and gentlemen. This is the unity the wizarding world needs. I invite you all to the ground breaking ceremony, which will happen right…" He checked is watch with a broad grin. "Now."

_Take _that_, Lucius Malfoy_, he thought as he beamed out at the madly cheering crowd. _Take that._

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry was almost nose to plate when the news hit the great hall.

Draco's choked sound of fury made Harry sit up straight and take notice. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and ducked a stray paper that zinged its way over his head.

"A late edition?" He leaned into Draco. "What happened?"

He blinked at the three-inch headlines. _Scrimgeour Breaks Ground at the Temple To All Gods!_

"Ah, wait a minute," Harry scratched the back of his head. "Wasn't your father supposed to do that, Draco?"

There was a chilly silence up and down the whole of the Slytherin table. They'd had such a nice celebration the night before too. Pansy had been in her element, using both Ginny and Millicent as assistants through the week. All who had attended had gone down to the lake at sunset to light the floating candles Pansy had specially ordered for the occasion. There had even been a small handful of students from other Houses at the event. Dusk had fallen, the skies clear for once in a week that had been full of storms. All of them had bundled up against the chill in the air. One by one, they had come forward, lighting their candles and setting them off onto the lake. The current had carried them far into the center. The stars had come out, one by one, overhead. It had been a quiet, solemn ritual with little ceremony. Somehow it had made it even more profound.

Later, they'd had a party in the common room. Finger goods and mass bowls of sugary confections had littered almost every available horizontal surface. Games for the younger years had been arranged. Old rituals, half done in jest, were used as love divinations for the coming year. There had been punch and music. Ginny had even been asked to dance by several boys.

"Draco?" He touched the blond on his shoulder, bringing them back to the present.

"Not now," Draco threw the paper aside. "Later, Harry. This is – just…later."

Harry made a face, but nodded. _It must be politics_, he turned back to his plate with a sigh, appetite gone.

There was a commotion at the Gryffindor table. Dean Thomas was on his feet, shaking the paper in his fist.

"…absolute _shit_! First we have them doing who knows what sorts of rituals all over the castle and now this!" Dean stabbed a finger at the Slytherin table. "They're leading us all to hell and the lot of you are just going to take it?"

"Hey, now," Seamus spoke up. "My god will be represented there, what's the harm?"

"What's the harm? What's the _harm_? Are you bloody mad?"

"No, mate, but I think you need to calm down."

"They are exalting other _gods_, Seamus!" Dean leaned down to shout in the other boy's face. "Our _God_ has something to say about that!"

Seamus wiped a hand over his cheek. Harry felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that look.

"You're right, mate. He does have something to say about his believers turning to other gods. But I don't see anywhere in the ten major rules where we have to destroy the other gods, eh? We're supposed to pity them, convert them, but never are we to raise a hand to our neighbors. Did you forget that verse as well, Dean? Do unto others? Or how about the one where we're supposed to turn the other cheek?"

"You'd support them?"

"Of course I support them," Seamus got to his feet. "In case you're bloody blind, Dean, they're the ones who saved us last year, remember that? Might want to keep that in perspective when you start spouting your mouth off." He threw down his napkin and stormed from the hall.

Silence descended over Gryffindor table. After that, Dean Thomas was hustled out of the great hall by some fourth and seventh years Harry could not name.

Harry looked over at Sasha. The girl had been relatively absent when Harry and Draco had time to loiter in their common room.

"Seamus makes a hell of a point," he said to her.

"I know," her smile lit her eyes. "I can't wait to hear him and my cousin debate. It will be lovely."

Harry snickered into his hand to hide his mirth. The last thing he needed was more bad rumors about him and his reaction to the wizarding worlds' politics.

**qpqpqpqp**

It seemed as though Harry's mirth had been noted by at least one teacher. Umbridge's class was a particularly unpleasant experience that day; the woman's usually fake smile was gone, and every time she looked in Harry's general direction, there was a fierce scowl was set on her face. They were forced to read from the book of the Bible that day called Deuteronomy. It was rather…repetitive for Harry's tastes.

And rather silly. His pants were a blend of fabrics, and did that mean he was going to hell? When he'd asked Umbridge the question she had screamed for him to be silent and to continue reading out loud for the benefit of the class.

The flurry of coughs when he'd come to the passage about not allowing a witch to live was loud enough to drown out her squawking for them to be silent.

By the time classes had ended, Harry had almost forgotten Draco's rage at the news from lunch.

The Daily Prophet hit the table from a variety of angles. Harry slid into his usual spot, holding his book bag on his lap as though it was a shield.

"This is unacceptable!" Draco had his hands planted on his hips. "Absolutely unacceptable. The man is mad."

"He has to be," the icy rage in Pansy's voice was shocking. "My father went in with yours for the backing to get the land."

"There is no possible way Gringott's had another plot of land available."

"Unless they're offering to annex their subsidiary buildings," Millicent leaned against the back of a chair. "They have that office building off of the clerk's alley."

"But they said they'd create a whole new alley," Draco raked a hand through his hair.

"They can, if they want to blast through that row of shops they own near the bank."

Draco scowled at the table. "Why are they doing this?"

Silence answered him. Harry had a thought.

"Rufus promised them something," he frowned, eyes darting back and forth as he tried to remember the Dursleys' angry conversations about money. "Maybe – hey! Maybe Rufus offered them to increase the interest rates?" He blinked up at the gathered Slytherins. "Gringott's has interest rates, right?"

They all stared at him.

Harry could feel the blush start to spread over his face. "Er, am I wrong?"

"You," Draco pointed a long finger at Harry, "should have been in Slytherin from the beginning." He shook his head and turned to Pansy. "What do you bet Scrimgeour has also allowed the goblins to call in their debts on the pure blood houses – debts only _he_ can negate, _if_ we agree to back him at the election?"

"Hell. Bloody _hell_."

"Millicent?"

"All ready ahead of you," the girl plunked herself down on the seat next to Harry. "My cousins in France need to hear about this too."

"Hear about what?" Harry felt like he was at a tennis match.

"The goblins in Great Britain have been allowed to up their rates – or whatever – by a political candidate," Draco leaned his hands on the back of the chair. "That means the wizarding currency between countries will be unbalanced. The other goblins will want the same considerations. Damn Scrimgeour. What was he thinking?"

A flurry of activity spun into action around him. Harry kept his head down and tried to keep up. Most of the political talk went right over his head – but he liked seeing Draco's eyes light up and that grin settle onto his face.

_The wizarding world won't know what hit them when he enters the stage_, Harry ducked his head to hide his grin. _It'll be amazing to watch_.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry was on the Hogwart's express again, too small for his clothes, his seat, everything.

Ron sat across from him. Harry could hear the whistle of the train, smell the faint whiff of coal-smoke coming in from the open windows. The decimated pile of candy was scattered across the cushions. It was almost exactly as he remembered.

But Ron, sitting across from him, with even that smudge of dirt on his nose, had one eye that was milky-blue, the color leached away and an ugly mass of scars scattered around the dead eye.

"Hello, Harry," Ron's mouth didn't move on one side. Harry drew his legs to his chest, curling his arms tight around them.

"I…this isn't a dream, is it?"

"Yes and no," Ron turned to look out the window, leaving the healthy side of his face in profile.

"Why are you here?"

"I…needed to talk to you."

"Why?"

The redhead sighed, hands twisting around each other in his lap. "The world was easier to understand when everything was black and white."

"The world has never been so easy to understand."

"I know," Ron bowed his head. "I know. I just…there are lots of things I wanted to say and now I'm lost as to where to begin."

Harry tried to swallow, but the lump in his throat made it rather difficult. "There's nothing to say, Ron. You've done enough."

"Yeah…I…yeah." Ron's mouth was pressed into a thin, unhappy line. "You're right. I was a total prat, a fool, a – a –,"

"Right git and unsavory bastard. I should have slugged you the moment you tried to get on my case in Diagon Alley." Harry's anger roared to life. "You made my life _hell_, Ron. You hurt Hermione! You hurt Ginny, Ron. You think some stupid, 'Oh, I'm so sorry, please forgive me' crap speech is going to make it all okay again? It's not – it's _not_."

"Harry. _Harry_." Ron's hands were open, palm out, trying to placate him. "I'm not – there's no way you should forgive me."

That caught Harry up short.

Ron let out a harsh sigh and transferred his stare to his hands. "I…just wanted to say it. I'm sorry. There's – there's no way you can – or should – forgive me. Too much happened for that to – to be possible. I just…wanted to say it and to say goodbye."

Harry worked his jaw. "What do you mean, goodbye?"

One shoulder rose and fell. "I wanted – I guess I wanted to make it final."

"Are you…dead?"

"No, no," Ron managed a small laugh. "But as far as the twins are concerned, I'm worse than dead."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not…well, here," he touched his temple. "The spiders…broke something, that's what She says."

"Who?"

"I don't know her name. Just that She is old and She makes the worst of the pain go away."

"A goddess?"

"I think so," he shook his head. "But why she'd help me…She's never answered." Ron let out a long breath. "She was the one who said I needed to come here, to – to talk to you."

Harry flexed his hands. They were starting to cramp from his grip on his legs. "There's nothing we have left to talk about."

"I…yeah." Ron peered up at him through his bangs. "I just – I'm sorry, you know. I'm sorry I was such an idiot. I'm sorry about everything that happened. I'd take it all back in a heartbeat."

Harry's throat felt as dry as the desert. "What's done is done, Ron. I'm where I need to be – should have been from the very start. I know this now."

Ron's face twisted. "The snake's den."

"I'm a Slytherin," Harry uncurled his legs from his chest. "Not some coward or gossip monger."

Ron flinched and dropped his gaze. "Harry…"

"No," Harry shook his head. "I _am_ where I belong. This House, this place, we used to hate and make fun of – they've taken me in, they accepted every part of me. We knew nothing about them and were happy to keep it that way."

"They're all gits, Harry," Ron snorted. "All of their pure-blood crap, the way they used to insult the muggleborns – you think that's just _fine_ now?"

"They're not what they seem," Harry could feel his nails cut into his palms. "Most of it was for show – and yes, some of them don't think well of muggleborns, but they're learning. Which is more than what I can say about _you_," Harry wanted to get up and pace, but the compartment was too small. "You're not sorry, not really. I don't know what you wanted from this, but enough. Go away." He turned his face from his former friend, the slow churn of his stomach making him unhappy.

"Harry…" He didn't look. He refused to look. "Even – even if you won't believe me, I am sorry. You're right, though, too much has happened for it to have much meaning. So…so just…would you – could you not hate the good times we had? Remember those and forget – forget I'm alive."

Harry blinked and glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye. "That's it?"

"Yeah," a real, small smile was on Ron's face. "Don't – don't tell Ginny, okay? She has said I need to have my own meeting with her. Maybe it'll help Gin, I hope so." Ron sighed again. "There's not much I can do anymore and I screwed up so much already. She says it's the things we learn on each turn of the wheel that's important," he ran a hand over his face. "I hope so."

Ron stood, becoming for one second the young man Harry remembered, his best friend, his best mate, loyal as Harry could ever hope for and not ruined by anything that had happened between them.

"Good bye, Harry," Ron's smile was the grin Harry remembered so well. "Next – next time, we'll work it out better, eh?" He gave a small wave. The dream broke to pieces around Harry, the world going a brilliant white that hurt his eyes.

He woke up choking on a sob, his eyes already feeling puffy and hot. He curled up under the blankets, half-laughing, half-crying at the memories that came, one by one.

By the time morning dawned, the last shard of Harry's grief was put to rest.

**qpqpqpqp**

The news was all over the school by the next morning. Ronald Wealsey was released from St. Mungo's. He had been taken home by the family patriarch, Charlie Wealsey and his father, Arthur Weasley. Mrs. Weasley, the papers declared, was still confined to bed after the 'tragedies' of the months before.

Ginny had balled up the paper and set it on fire when she'd read the articles. Her eyes were red and puffy. Harry had an idea as to why.

Draco said nothing, which was so unlike the blond that Harry began to get suspicious. He peered at Draco, studying his face. "You knew about this ahead of time, didn't you?"

Draco began to cough around his bite of muffin. Blaise patted him on the back, while giving Harry a large, wide-eyed look.

"Of course not," Blaise said with a smile.

"Oh, stuff it," Harry pushed at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Draco pounded his fast against his chest a few times. "We, ah," he wheezed. "Didn't want to upset you? Either of you?"

For a moment, Harry met Ginny's gaze. They both rolled their eyes at the same moment.

"Idiots, the lot of you," Harry turned back to his breakfast with a snort. The rustle of wings above them heralded the approach of the owl post.

A letter dropped down for Ginny – and for Harry. Ginny tore hers open with a breathless gasp. Harry set his aside and concentrated on eating his eggs while they were still warm.

"Father's coming home in two weeks!" Ginny bounced in her seat. Her eyes scanned down over the letter. "He wants to take us to Capri this summer – oh, can you _imagine_?"

"I hear it's a beautiful island," Pansy smiled at her. "A lot of muggles, at least in one part, but some say that's part of the charm."

"There's beaches and oh!" He glanced up at her exclamation. "There's grottos and the estate has a whole cave complex of our own!" She clutched the letter to her chest. "This summer will be amazing!"

"A cave complex?" Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes! Where the water comes in under the cliffs and fills in the grottos – Father says they're amazing and we can go swimming in them!"

Harry glanced at Draco. The blond's eyebrows were also raised. "Sounds fascinating," Draco nodded.

Harry made a mental note to talk to Pythia about grottos and see what she had to say about them.

"Aren't you going to open your letter too, Harry?"

"Not now, Gin. I'm too hungry," he flashed her a smile.

"Your appetite has improved."

"Yes, I'm not longer a walking stick," he snagged another muffin from the tray.

"Oh, look at the time!" Ginny began stuffing her books into her bag. It had been the girls' day of manning the Slytherin table early. "I need to speak to Professor McGonagall about my report. See you later!" She was up and gone in a flurry, her cane a soft staccato note as he hurried from the great hall.

"Harry?"

"I'll deal with it later. I really am hungry."

Draco leaned an elbow on the table – which earned him a reproving look from Pansy. "The new potion worked?"

"Best yet," Harry touched his throat. "I can barely feel the scars anymore and I don't get raspy after talking for a while."

"Have you told Severus?"

"I have a meeting with Auror Rayne tonight. I'll tell him then."

"What about the box of stuff Black sent you?"

Harry's laugh inhaled a bit of muffin. A bit of choking and some coughing later, he accepted the napkin shoved his way. "Thanks," he moped at his face. "You should have seen Professor Snape when he opened the box," he managed a breathless laugh.

The letters with Sirius were improving. Harry had needed Draco's help with them at first, not wanting them to sound too fake, too perfect, so Sirius would start to suspect him again.

One of the stipulations Harry and Sirius had worked out was that Fondorn was not to return to the castle. The man could send potions to his heart's content, but Harry knew the game would be over the moment he faced the man. Fooling Sirius would be easier, as he was learning to his heart's regret.

Professor Snape was impossible to fool. He flat out forbid Harry to ingest any of Fondorn's potions. Snape always had Harry take the newest batch to the lab where they would go over them one by one – Snape's vitriolic ire lambasting every attempt the Healer made. Harry always came out of the sessions smiling, even if the Potions Master was in a foul mood after.

As for the actual potions Harry was taking – whomever his Head of House's connections were in the Healer's industry, they knew what they were doing. Between Professor Snape's salves and the potions that came in, Harry was starting to feel almost – almost feel close to normal again.

"Well, let's be off. We've got Defense," Draco made a face. "That Umbridge…I wish father would do something about her."

Harry threw his bag over his shoulder. "How is the mess with the temple?"

Draco made a face. "Can't be moved. Whatever promises Scrimgeour made to the goblins, they were big."

"There's no way your father can get the project back?"

"No," Draco scowled at a giggling group of Hufflepuff first years. They all went quiet with a handful of squeaks.

"We'll figure something out," he told the blond.

"We'd better," was what Draco's mutter sounded like. Harry shook his head and let the matter drop. They had Umbridge to face and that was enough of an ordeal for one day.

**qpqpqpqp**

Gwyn ap Nudd watched Erin as she slept. His small child had been having nightmares of late, choosing to sleep later in the day in his bed when she thought he did not know.

The god of Annwn was worried.

He watched her whimper in her sleep, hands curled tight in the bed covers. She relaxed after a moment, the fear on her face retreating back into slumber.

There was something wrong. He could no longer deny that fact. Strange black weeds were starting to force their way into his gardens, his courtyards. The servants complained of them. His lovely, beloved Flower Maiden refused to touch them. His skin became red and puffy after he, or anyone else, touched them.

There was something wrong and the person he needed to speak to was lost, alone in the Dark. None of the others had seen or heard from the Morrigan in weeks.

That just made the worry in his gut grow.

He closed the door with a soft click. He would let Erin sleep a while longer. It would not hurt the child any.

He never heard her murmur, curled in a tight ball under the covers, "Harry?" Nor did he feel the way the room's temperature dropped as the little girl spoke the Dreamer's name.

**qpqpqpqp**

"The bloody problem with all these bloody books is that they are all so bloody vague!" Sasha slammed the dusty tome shut with a snarl.

Seamus leaned his chin against his hand. "Go on, keep swearing. It suits you."

She leveled a glare at him. "You are not helping."

"Surely I am. I've got all these books here, don't I?"

"Are you _reading_ them?"

"Of course!"

"Gryffindor."

He cocked a grin at her. "Want to test my knowledge?" He waggled his eyebrows – and then ducked the book that came flying at his head.

The squawk when it hit someone behind him had them both on their feet, hearts thumping in their throats.

Instead, Hermione's form limped out of the shadows and into the study nook. "If Madam Pince caught you doing that…" She said, setting the book down on the table.

"She would never say a thing," Sasha snapped back. "Slytherin pride."

"Of course, of course," Hermione brushed her hair over her shoulder.

"How have you been, Hermione?" Seamus pocketed his wand. He had seen little of the young woman in the dorms – but then again, he wasn't the most popular person in Gryffindor at the moment. He made sure to keep himself scarce.

"Oh, you know," one hand tangled itself in her hair. "I thought I was ready for the OWL exams, but there was so much to go over…" She blinked at them and then shrugged. "I…I didn't have much tine to…you know." She gestured at the space between them.

"We know," Sasha watched her with a blank expression on her face. "We have also been busy."

"Yes…yes."

Seamus exchanged a look with Sasha. "Everything all right there, Hermione?"

"What? Oh, of course," the muggleborn witch shook her head and shot a glance at Sasha. "Though…I was wondering if I could ask you something."

"Ask what?"

Hermione glanced between them. "Just…some pureblood tradition…stuff."

"It's not like you to be so vague," Sasha challenged.

"No…you're right."

"What's going on?"

The girl drew a breath. "I can't…I can't talk about it. I'm sorry. It's not bad." She held up her empty hands. "It's just…I can't talk about it. Yet."

Seamus cut another glance at Sasha. She shrugged, but nodded.

The questions were general enough. Pureblood naming rituals was the oddest question of the bunch. When she was gone, her shot stack of inquiries with her, Seamus turned to Sasha.

"What do you make of that?"

The seventh year shook her head. "Odd. I make of that very, very odd. It was nothing about the signals we've been getting, but more…" She drummed her fingers on the tabletop.

"More what?"

"Political."

Seamus felt his eyebrow rise. "Herm and politics?" He considered it. "It could happen."

"Yes, but why…" Sasha was staring at the spot were Hermione had vanished through.

"Why what?"

"You would think that she would start up some club, like she has before. She has always been loud in her opinions. Why the silence now?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I and that bothers me." She shook her head with a sigh. She pushed at the pile of books left on the table. "Every time I think we're getting somewhere, something else pops up in our way."

"We'll figure it out," Seamus tried to be cheerful for her. "After all, there are only so many books in the library, right? We'll run across something," he eyed the piles, feeling his own optimism fade. "Eventually."

He just hoped that eventually would be in time for whatever was going to happen next.

End Chapter Thirty-One


	32. Chapter 32: Scrimgeour

Chapter Thirty-Two: Scrimgeour

Lucius's hands were wrapped tight around the head of his cane. The leather of his gloves creaked as he flexed his fingers. Diagon Alley buzzed with people – the few street corner preachers were still shouting here and there. The sharp odor of roasting liver spiked the air – as well as the scent from the animal counters halfway down the block from the nook where Lucius had found to wait and watch.

The new alley had been shifted into the flow of Diagon Alley within days. A few weeks later and all the store area from the entrance to end was snapped up. Rooms were for rent above the stores, all controlled by the Gringott's Bank, of course.

The way he had been outmaneuvered drove Lucius _mad_.

It had taken Severus several hours to calm him after the fact of Scrimgeour's little stunt had reached the Malfoy Manor. Even their more…vigorous pastimes had done little to dim the unsettling ire that still gripped him.

Lucius wanted to see this temple they were building. He wanted to see every bloody inch of it.

Problem was, was that the goblins were not letting anyone through the alley to the temple site. Not even the press was allowed to take photographs – all they were allowed to publish was the pool photos sent out by the Bank's public relations representative.

Although calling the vicious little creature a public relations representative was almost enough to make Lucius laugh.

Still, there was little else in the wizarding world for news. The elections were in days. The public unrest had calmed to a strange simmer that sent chills up any battle-ready wizard who had seen the bad days of the Dark Lord's reign.

The commons might be placated, but Lucius surely wasn't. Something was going to happen. Things were moving, things were changing. It made his hands itch to hold his wand and gather all that was dear to him close and held safe behind firm wards.

Something was going to happen. Lucius wanted to know what it was before the rest of the world. Then he would know which way to jump when the news hit. He loathed surprises.

The leather of his gloves creaked again as he relaxed his stranglehold on his cane. He had come to the alley, in this miserable nook, disguised, to watch and make note. He would find a way into the temple site. He would see if the goblins and Scrimgeour were honoring their promises.

Merlin help them if they had not.

**qpqpqpqp**

Friday morning held a buzz in the air. Harry studied the long tables of the Great Hall, his breakfast going cold on the plate in front of him.

"What's going on?" He asked Pansy.

He was alone at the table for once. Draco had been drowning in homework and politics to all hours of the night. He had decided to forego breakfast for information that morning. Harry didn't mind. It was nice to see the blond immerse himself in things that had nothing to do with Harry.

Pansy finished her piece of toast, dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and then bothered to answer. "It's Election Day, Harry. We've only been talking about it for the last two weeks. Didn't you listen?"

"Apparently not," he grinned at her expression. "I don't understand all that," he wiggled his hand back and forth. "Stuff."

"Stuff he calls it," Pansy leaned into Millicent's shoulder. "Did you hear that?"

"No."

"Millie."

"No, Pansy."

"But _Millie."_

"I've had enough, Parkinson. No more politics. I've done my duty."

"You're all no fun."

"Says the girl who wants to become an interior decorator or whatever they're called."

"It's a _stylist_, Millie, for Merlin's sake, get it right."

"Sure thing, right-o."

"You're such a boar in the mornings sometimes."

"And _you_ have had too much tea."

Harry blinked at the exchange. "So this is why Draco's been running himself ragged, right?"

"Yes, oh dense one."

"You _are_ cranky today, Millicent." He barely dodged the kick she sent his way. "When does it end?"

"Sunset is when the last ballot is allowed to be cast. Then it's counted and the results are read out loud in front of the Ministry." Pansy's pink tongue darted out to lap at the smudge of jam on her fingers. "All the pureblood families will be there to witness the new Minister as he's sworn in. As per tradition, three pure blood families must sign the contract the new Minister signs to ratify his position."

"Pureblood houses?"

"Well, it goes back to the times when we were a lot less," Pansy tilted her head to one side. "The pureblood families were the strongest, usually with the most powerful witches and wizards as either husbands or wives, or as vassals. When the nobility system went to pot, so did most of the pureblood family power, except what's left over in tradition."

"Were there always Ministers?"

"Merlin, no. A long time ago we had the council only, who was ruled over by – well, I guess you could equate them with the kings and queens."

"Really?"

"Really. But when the muggleborn began to outnumber us, the whole system was brought down alongside the whole Tory mess."

"Oh."

"Yes. So, as I said, all that remains is what tradition has kept."

"When did the Minister position come up?"

"Oh, a few centuries ago I think," Pansy wrinkled her nose. "You'd have to ask Blaise or Draco for the particulars."

Harry wrinkled his nose back at her. "I'm not that interested, thanks."

"Interested in what?" Draco spoke from behind them.

Harry turned. "Knowing whether the new black – which is violet or something – looks good on me."

"Merlin, Pansy, I leave him alone for one morning and you're already tormenting him?"

"Oh, please."

"Harry, are you all right? She hasn't brainwashed you, has she?"

He smacked Draco's shoulder. "Enough. Have you eaten?"

"I will in a moment." Draco was busy buttering a handful of toast slices.

"You're only eating that?"

"We've got classes," Draco polished off one piece in a handful of bites.

Harry bit back his sigh and started to butter slices as well. "I'll help. You eat."

"Mmph cho."

qpqpqpqp

The mood in Hogwarts was pulled tight by supper. Harry had learned that the papers would be printing late editions so to send out the word on who had become their new Minister of Magic.

Most of Slytherin table picked at their plates and kept one eye on the high windows. Gryffindor was rowdier than usual, prompting one admonition from Professor McGonagall already. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff kept to themselves, although Harry noted that more than a few of the Ravenclaws were shooting glances towards the Slytherin table.

He leaned in near Draco. "You know, Pythia's cave sounds like a good idea right about now."

He had to pat Draco on the back to stop the coughing. "And miss this?" The blond arched an eyebrow. "Never."

"Slytherin."

"But of course."

The sound of the windows opening drew everyone's attention. A sharp, chill breeze ruffled down the hall. Owls began flooding into the room.

A paper – the Daily Prophet, Harry noted – landed in front of Draco. _Scrimgeour Wins!_ Was the headline. Small, animated fireworks burst around the three-inch high letters.

Draco flipped the edition open. Cheers and groans erupted up and down the tables.

"Well, now," pale eyes scanned over the articles. "Now we wait and see."

"Wait and see?" Harry frowned at the blond. "For what?"

"For Scrimgeour to make his move." Draco passed the paper on to Pansy and Millicent.

**qpqpqpqp**

The Minister's office was a grand place. Rufus feared he might need a map to cover all of its hidey-holes. The windows looked out over a glittering city. Muggle London in one view. Diagon Alley from another. Perfect.

His staff and aides were buzzing around the offices, conquering and pillaging their appropriated desks and areas. Fudge's staff was thanked and paid and sent on their way – Rufus was not about to keep any of them on staff without thorough background checks. He wouldn't put it past Fudge to put a mole in his staff.

He rested his hands on the still, staring out at the vast metropolis that London had become. He had done it. He'd bagged the position he'd wanted for years.

It was time to get to work.

**qpqpqpqp**

Saturday morning dawned gray and bleak. Harry had abandoned the politics and plotting session that had run late into the night in the common room. He was just happy Fudge hadn't been reelected. The others were more than willing to over-analyze everything, in his opinion. He had a more important thing in mind.

It was a Hogsmead weekend.

It had taken a lot of – well, Harry made a face at his reflection. It had taken a lot of lying to get Sirius to sign his consent form. How Dumbledore had arranged it, Harry wasn't sure, since as far as _he_ knew, the Dursleys were still his legal guardians. Still, it was nice to have the approval to go. He'd deserved a bit of respite, damn it. He was going to enjoy it.

The common room was empty when he made his way out to the great hall. A few Seventh years tagged along with him for the walk – Harry was glad he'd thought to wear a thick sweater. The wind howled around the edges of the castle at times, its tiny fingers creeping in to send chills down Harry's spine. The faint tapping of sparse rain clicked at the windows. Harry was grateful for the steaming mugs of tea that were ready for them at the table when they got there.

Most of the usual suspects were absent when Harry loaded up his plate with a real appetite. He caught sight of Professor Snape at the Head Table – the Potions Master bent him a sedate nod that Harry answered with a wave. Dumbledore's pleased smile made Harry duck his head and look away.

Sasha slid in next to him, just as he was about to tuck in. "Hello, Harry." The girl's hair was braided away from her face. She rarely wore make-up, but there was a hint of…something on her eyelids. Harry knew Pansy would know what it was called.

"Sasha," he took another sip of tea. The doors to the great hall were letting in drafts every time they opened and closed. He was near to one of the fireplaces that lined the walls, but still – the draft was enough to make him shiver every time it came their way.

"No Draco this morning?"

"Still asleep, I'd wager."

"Ah," she poured a cup of tea for herself and added cream and sugar. He made a face while she laughed. "You don't care for cream or sugar?"

"Ick, no."

"Makes it taste better."

He peered at her. "Are you sure you're British?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Last time I checked, yes."

"Blasphemer."

"I try."

"You – you – profaner."

"Oh, you keep talking like that and I'll have to tell Seamus on you."

They shared a laugh. Harry tucked into his meal, savoring the feel of a painless throat for once. The potions Professor Snape had him on were doing wonders.

He took a hold of his thoughts before they could take a darker turn. "Are you going to Hogsmead today?"

"Yes." Sasha dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "I'm having tea with my cousin."

"And Seamus?"

"Doesn't know yet."

"That's not very nice."

"Cousin Herbert wanted it to be a surprise."

"I'm sure it will be."

She rolled her eyes at him. "My cousin isn't some man-eater, you know. A bit dotty here and there, but he's heard all about Seamus. They'll get along famously."

"Did your cousin attend Hogwarts?"

"No, he was tutored at home," a dark expression passed over her face. "He's – he has a lame leg. It wasn't considered…proper to send a – a cripple to Hogwarts." Her expression cleared. "Cousin Herbert calls it all hogwash and for the best that he didn't come here, otherwise he would have been caught up in all the family drama."

"He likes it that you're in Slytherin?"

"Tickled pink."

"That would be something."

"What?"

"To be tickled pink."

Her fork paused on its way to her mouth. "Now I have that image in my head, Harry. You'll pay for that later."

He snorted out a mouthful of tea while laughing, much to her amusement.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry waited for Draco at the table in the great hall. The blond had been apologetic when he and the rest of their year had meandered in for breakfast. Harry wasn't angry, though. He was more fascinated by the fierce winds outside than a mumbled apology around a spoonful of porridge.

Finally, _finally_, after a sweater, a jacket and a scarf from Professor Snape, Harry was let out of the common room door. Why they'd had to go back was beyond him – he was ready to leave when the others had finished eating. But both Pansy and Ginny had protested, so back to the dorms they had gone.

The walk down to the town was brisk. Harry was grateful for the scarf a hundred feet from the castle; he tucked his chin down behind the layered wrap and tugged the sides up to cover his ears.

"Here," Draco was trying not to smile. He held out a wool cap.

"Yes, yes," Harry grumbled, but snatched it away. The extra layer did wonders to keep him warm.

"What did you want to do?"

Harry considered the question. He faltered a bit at the memories of him, Ron and Hermione going to Hogsmead that rose up. "We – we could go to the candy store?"

"If you like."

"Was there anything you'd like to do?"

"A tour of the bookstore and lunch would be fine."

Harry let out a breath. For some reason butterflies had settled into his stomach, robbing him of the ability to breathe normally.

"All right there, Harry?"

"I'm fine. It's cold."

"Too cold," Draco agreed with a slow nod. "We still don't know why."

"There was nothing in the books." Harry lifted and dropped one shoulder. "Could just be a natural event."

"I doubt it."

"Could we – could we not talk about it today?" He caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Just for today?"

"Of course, Harry." Draco slid his hand around Harry's. "Come on. We should get to the candy shop before the others."

**qpqp**

Later, at lunch in a pub Harry hadn't known existed behind a row of shops, snow began to trickle down from the sky. The white haze had covered the grounds by nightfall in a thick spread of wet powder. Harry sat on the steps with Ginny as his Housemates created a field of battle on the front lawns. One by one, a few Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students joined in the melee. The only Gryffindor in the bunch was Seamus, who had been commandeered by Draco's squad early on.

It felt good to laugh, Harry shared a wide grin with Ginny. _We've missed this for far too long_.

**qpqp**

Snow kept falling throughout the night. By the time Professor Snape had rounded them up for supper, several inches were blanketing the grounds. Harry spread an extra blanket across his bed that night, to help fight off the chill that had settled into his bones, but sleep came fast for Harry anyway.

It was a Dream, Harry knew right off the bat. Everything was far too dark for it to be anything but. He was barefoot in the dark, but not the Dark. It sounded like a cave almost. The water around his feet was warm. Light began to gather, trickling in from some source he could not see. The water, he realized with growing horror, was anything but. The pool of blood stretched as far as he could see. A steady drop kept time somewhere in the cavern. One by one, feathers began to rain down on him. Some of them still had skin attached to the base. They fell like rain – like snow, only pitch black and bloody.

Harry screamed but no sound came from his mouth. He tried to bat away the falling feathers, but they kept pelting down on him, the cold flesh sticking to his skin from the clotting blood.

His screams followed him to the waking world, where Draco waited for him to catch his breath.

Neither of them noticed the feathers that littered the ground around the bed until later the next morning.

**qpqpqpqp**

Crom Cruach reached for the sky, relishing the feel of blood and bone creaking at his direction. The body of this particular follower had been offered up after a particularly bloody act of insubordination by some of his newest worshippers.

They would learn. He had all the time he needed now.

The restless pulse of his worshippers moved around him. A mortal, named Scrimgeour, had won some place in human social hierarchy, he had been told. Things in this _wizarding world_ were rife, set and joyful and ripe for the plucking. The chaos this night would bring would feed him for months.

The urban sprawl of London stretched out before them. He could feel the pulse of humanity against his skin like a living heart. Ripe. Plump. Ready for sharp teeth and sharper knives.

He raised his hand and gave the signal to go. The sun had long since set. The cold chill of snow would blanket their approach.

It was time for his first feast since his resurrection.

End Chapter Thirty-Two


	33. Chapter 33: Complicated Reasons

Chapter Thirty-Three: Complicated Reasons

The blood slid down the sidewalk, creating a small waterfall off the curb and into the gutter where it turned the accumulated slush a blushing pink. Sirens wailed in the distance, but Crom Cruach's followers swore the muggles would be delayed in time. They almost had enough.

Power pulsed against his tongue, sweet like honey comb, soft as hot blood against young skin. The shudders ran down his spine; his Priest was never far from His side, eager and willing to do whatever his God demanded of him.

Lights were on in almost all of the houses. His followers had rounded the adults into a herd in the street, on their knees, ready to worship their new lord for the small amount of time they were privileged to live and experience His glory.

The children, of course, were his first priority.

There was such a delectable range of youths for him to feast on. The thick cloud of despair was almost visible around the screaming adults – it made their slaughter all the more sweet to his taste.

He was gorged from the power. Sated, filled to bursting. He gathered it close to him and relished the feel; soon, soon on the day of longest night he would be able to raise his temple out of the Dark. He would bring back all that the shining gods had taken from him, cast away and shattered in their horrified fury.

Soon, yes, soon he would be able to take his revenge on all of them.

He gave the signal. His Priest released his followers from their order of restraint. The screams rose to a frenzied pitch around them. The power funneled through him, around him, over him. His followers raised their wands high and cast that strange spell they seemed to think he would understand, bother to even look at, beyond one cursory glance.

It was an ugly symbol, Crom Cruach ignored the skull and snake that exploded across the night sky. He always had liked his ways more.

**qpqpqpqp**

"The Dark Mark, sir! The Dark Mark has appeared in the sky over London!"

Rufus stared at the aide that had burst into the room. A slow turn had him facing the windows. Whole sections of London were lighting up, one by one.

"The muggles can see it," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"Alert the Aurors. Get the Unspeakables on the scene. We need to contain the muggles who are still alive." He rose, mind clicking over into that crystal clear battle-ready awareness he had lived with all throughout the first war with the Dark Lord.

"Colin!" One of the senior aides stepped into the room. "I want the whereabouts of every suspected Voldemort supporter on my desk as soon as possible."

"But –"

"No excuses. I want to know where they were, with whom and when. I won't have this happen again, not on my watch."

"Yes, sir!"

He forced his hands to relax. He took a deep breath and let it out. "Let's go," he said to the gathered crowd in his office.

**qpqpqpqp**

The Unspeakables flooded into Hogwarts in the hour before dawn. The snow had passed, leaving a bitter cold in its wake. The stars glittered from their distant seats overhead.

They passed through the ancient wards with all the power of the Ministry behind them. Dumbledore was roused from troubled dreams by the combined shouting of the collected Hogwarts headmasters' portraits.

In sleeping gown and cap, he and Minerva met the small mob in the long hall that led down to the dungeons. "What is the meaning of this?" It was late and the bitter chill had his joints aching.

"Minister Scrimgeour has authorized us to verify the location of al suspected Voldemort supporters."

"Then why are you in my school?"

The Unspeakable at the head of the pack turned his head and spat. "Don't play stupid, Headmaster Dumbledore. There are former Death Eaters in your school. We want to know their whereabouts for the entirety of this night."

"Simple. They were here."

"We will verify this on our own," the Unspeakable drew a rolled parchment from his robe. "We have the official seal of the Ministry. The entire council has approved this measure."

Minerva took it with a startled glance at Albus. "What has happened to enact such a measure?" His weakening power was still enough to keep the tense bundle of men held fast in the hall. He hoped he would be able to give Severus enough time.

"There has been a massacre in London," one of the men in the pack spoke up. "The Dark Mark appeared in the sky."

Albus' indrawn breath caught in his throat. "Gentlemen, we have been over this before. There is no one in Hogwarts who would do such a thing anymore."

"And we all know how trustworthy _your_ judgment is. You must let us pass."

"He's right, Albus," Minerva spoke up. "We cannot stop them." She passed him the writ.

He scanned the elegant script. The edge crumpled under his fingers. "Fine. But I do ask, gentlemen, that you treat my professors – and students – with care and respect."

They did not bother to answer, pushing past him and Minerva without a backwards glance. The entire mob made for the stairs that led to the dungeons and the Slytherin dorms.

"They won't hurt them," Minerva's voice held steel and ice.

"We can hope."

**qpqp**

They were herded out of their rooms and questioned in the common room. Draco was rigid with tension the entire time. Harry couldn't help but feed off that tension, feeling his shoulders curl and his head start to throb from a nasty headache. His nose felt funny – he wiped the back of his hand across it and it came away smeared with blood.

"This one's bleeding," said a voice far too close to Harry for his liking.

He was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged forward. Draco moved to protest, but a bevy of wands pointed at his head held him in place.

"Where were you tonight, Potter?"

He was the focus of attention. "In bed."

The hand on his shoulder shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Where'd you get this blood then?"

"I've got a bloody nose."

A rough hand grabbed his chin and turned his face side to side. "Damn," the man let him go. "We've got nothing," the hand that held him pushed Harry back with careless strength. Draco caught him before he could fall. The Unspeakables drained from the room, leaving the younger years sniffling, hiding behind the few seventh years that had arranged themselves in a line between the children and the adults.

"What is going on?" Draco curled an arm around Harry's waist.

The room swam around Harry. "Blood on the streets," he swayed. "They're all dead." The last Unspeakable had yet to clear the door. The man stopped, turned and raised his wand.

"Maybe we were wrong," the Unspeakable said. Harry could not dodge. The stunner took down Draco and himself. The common room exploded into chaos around them. The last thing Harry remembered before the world went hazy and black was Professor Snape and the Headmaster charging into the room.

**qpqp**

"There was no cause for this to happen, Rufus," Dumbledore's anger made his magic fill the room. Harry huddled on the couch, squished between Draco and Professor Snape, trying not to move his aching head too much.

The new Minister of Magic stood on the far side of the room, flanked by a crowd of aides and Unspeakables. "I gave the order because it was the right thing to do, Albus. Obviously we have some rogue Death Eaters terrorizing the muggle and wizarding worlds with their attempts at some sort of dark ritual." Rufus' pale eyes shifted to rest on Harry. "Since your…Slytherin House has had the most contact with the Dark Lord's side and ancient rituals it was natural that the Unspeakables would come here." A muscle worked in his jaw. "Their methods, of course, could have been more polite. We have apologized for that breech in manners."

"Breech of _manners_ –"

"Severus." Harry had never heard the Headmaster so angry.

"You understand our concern, Albus," Rufus continued. "This is a threat the wizarding world does not need at this time."

"Which threat, Rufus? The interference of the muggles or the threat of a revolt of rogue Death Eaters?"

"Both, of course," Harry glanced between the two men. There seemed to be something deeper than their conversation going on as the men spoke.

"You are fighting a losing battle, Rufus," the Headmaster clasped his hands behind his back.

"I will _not_ be hobbled by the memory of a dark lord."

"Then do _not_ fear the changes that are bound to affect our world."

"Changes? What changes, Albus? We have persevered in our isolation, and we both know why. To change this balance is to risk everything."

Blue eyes raked the Minister over. "Just as you have changed the balance between the wizarding world and the goblins?"

Harry felt Draco tense at his side. There was a ripple of unease that went through Scrimgeour's crowd.

"I did what I had to do."

"That is said by every tyrant – and victorious leader. I wonder what the histories will paint you as."

"_You_ have little room to cast stones, old man."

"That I do. But I wonder, do you do what you do out of love for our world or out of fear?"

"I fear nothing."

"Strange, I fear many things. Fear makes us wise. A fool knows no fear."

"You call me a fool."

"If you do not fear."

Scrimgeour's hands were clenched so tight they shook. "How –"

The office door burst open, shattering the moment. Wands were out in a flash. Sirius stomped into the room, eyes and hair wild.

"Harry? Where's Harry?"

"I'm here." He started to rise, but Draco's hand on his arm stopped him.

"What – who are you people? What are you doing with Harry? You have _no_ right to speak to him without his guardian present –"

"Which you are not," one of Scrimgeour's aides spoke up. "The Dursley's refused our summons. As such, the guardian ad litem, Professor Snape, was an acceptable substitute."

"_I_ am Harry's godfather."

"And you have yet to fill out the required forms for transfer of guardianship," the aide pushed his glasses up his nose, causing the lenses to catch the lamplight and flash. "We have sent multiple copies."

Harry was struck by the guilty look that crossed Sirius' face. "I…was out of the country."

"I still demand to speak to him," Rufus focused on Dumbledore. "The Unspeakables said he spoke as if he knew what had happened. I want to know why. If you insist on his innocence, how did Mr. Potter know about the attack?"

There was a strained moment of silence. Harry met the Headmaster's gaze.

"Mr. Potter –"

"I took the Vision Potion," he spoke up. He heard Professor Snape's sharp intake of breath.

Scrimgeour turned on him, a vicious scowl set on his features. "You did what?"

Draco's hand dug into his back. "I took the Vision Potion – last year," he added. "It helped me find information to defeat Voldemort." Several wizards flinched at the name. "I took it a few times. It kind of…stays in your system after that."

"What are you telling me, young man? This potion has turned you into some kind of Seer?" Scrimgeour sneered the word.

"No," Sirius pushed forward, standing between Harry and the Minister. "Harry is _fine_. He's a normal teenager – he's not some _seer_."

Draco's thumb stroked over Harry's spine. "I just…know things, sometimes," he added.

"Not this _again_, Harry." Sirius turned a furious look on him.

"Be silent, Black." Scrimgeour took one measured step forward. "What did you see?"

"It was a dream," Harry licked his lips. "Just – scary stuff, you know? Lots of blood."

"And that told you an attack had happened?"

"No, I saw the – the blood on the sidewalk," he swallowed with some difficulty. "There were so many dead bodies, all in the street." He let out a long breath. "When the Unspeakables came…it just confirmed it."

"A dream and conjecture. It means nothing," Sirius shot a dark look at Harry. "He's a smart boy. Too gullible to other's manipulations." The last was ground out at Professor Snape.

"I manipulate nothing," Snape shot back.

Harry shivered under Scrimgeour's pale stare. "I see," the older man murmured. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Mr. Potter. You're coming with us."

"What?"

"Wait a minute!"

"Absolutely not!"

The Unspeakables drew their wands. Harry could feel everything shifting around him. "It's all right," he clamped a hand down on Draco's arm. "It's _all right_. I'll be fine."

"Harry, I told you this would happen! If you would just stop with the damned _lies_…"

"Sirius," he drew in a breath and stood, facing the animagus. "It's all just dreams and smarts, remember? You said it yourself. It'll be fine. Please don't fight."

"But…"

"Let's go, Mr. Potter." Scrimgeour stepped forward. "We'll see if these dreams of yours are real or not."

Professor Snape lurched off the couch, his face pale. Harry was frozen in place, bound by some spell he had not been able to detect. Draco's eyes were the last thing he saw before the whole world went white around him.

**qpqpqpqp**

Pythia's hands went still on her needlework. The Dark moved, the soft sounds of the abyss flaring for a moment. Things moved around her, shattered strands that unraveled and rebraided themselves before her eyes.

"Oh my," she managed to say before the pain caught her up and shattered her world to pieces.

**qpqpqpqp**

Gwen ap Nudd paused as he adjusted the buckle of his guard. There was a faint sound, like the memory of a scream – then it was gone. He frowned, the sour set of his stomach getting worse by the moment.

Erin stood at his side, watching him with large eyes. His flower maiden had refused to leave her rooms. Many of his lieutenants thought him too hasty. Erin had said nothing the entire time.

"Be good for Creiddylad while I am gone," his sword rested at his hip. He would be walking the paths into the darkness, not wanting to risk his steeds.

"I will."

"And stop putting bugs on her vanity."

Erin wrinkled her nose at him. "She should be nicer to you."

He let out a soft sigh and knelt. He held open his arms. "Forgive me, child, but I must go."

She folded herself against him. "I know," she said, her thin arms coming up around his neck. "You have to help her."

"Help who?"

"The lady with the feathers."

He drew back to look at her face. "Erin?"

Her eyes were full of stars. "It is all meant to be," she blinked. "One way or the other."

**qpqpqpqp**

There were too many people surrounding him. Voices babbled over each other. A sharp, stringent odor burned his nose. Hands invaded his space, touching him on his head, his arms, his legs. He tried to move away from them, but his ankles and wrists were held in place.

"Ng," he worked his mouth. It felt fuzzy and tasted worse. "Nng…no –"

"Ah, he's awake!" The cacophony around him rose to a new pitch. There was even more touching. Someone took a pinch of his skin and shook it, causing him to arch off the cold flat surface he was held to.

His eyes were blurry. That bothered him the most. He could not see the people around him, couldn't tell from which way the next touch would fall. It made his skin crawl and his breath come faster.

"Let me through! I say, let me through!"

_Shit_, Harry bit back a whimper. Fondorn's nasal tones drew closer.

"_I_ am his personal Healer. I will run the tests!"

"You have no expertise in this field, Fondorn!"

"The boy seems to be in pain," remarked a new voice.

"Yes, I am," Harry rasped out.

"And cognizant, how wonderful. Murry, do you see this? Take notes."

_Gee, thanks_, Harry tried blinking fast. It did nothing to cure the blurriness.

"He is still _my_ patient. I have been overseeing the boy's recovery."

"What recovery?"

"The abysmal injuries that those Malfoys inflicted on him –"

"What injuries?"

"…clearly driven the boy mad…"

"…Insanity could be the cause…"

"….Obviously have to test…"

"…Causation can lead to mental instability…"

_Hurry, hurry, hurry_, Harry swallowed against a dry throat. The world still felt odd around him, too tight, too fluid. Things were still shifting, he could almost…

" – I _am_ his Healer and _I_ will administer the veritaserum! No one else here is allowed to!"

…Almost see the strands shift and move as one player chose a path to walk, as another turned left at a crossroads instead of right – he could almost – yes, there, the pattern –

"You will remove yourselves from the vicinity of Mr. Potter this _instant_."

The welcome sound of Professor Snape's voice washed across Harry's skin. _He came, I knew he'd come – just like what I saw…_

"You have _no_ authority here!" Fondorn spat.

Harry watched the tall, blurry form enter the room. Something pale was held up. "By writ of the council, I have every right to take Mr. Potter from this place. Minister Scrimgeour was too _hasty_ in his snatch – even the head of our wondrous little government doesn't have the right to take a minor from Hogwarts without permission of his guardian."

"I-Impossible! Let me see that!" Fondorn snatched the writ from Snape's hand.

"You'll kindly release the child, if you please." The professor had his most insulting tone for the rest of the healers that surrounded the metal table where Harry lay.

"But…"

"How does…"

"Losing our experiment…"

"Now!" Snape's voice cracked out. The Healers all ducked and started like a class full of first year Hufflepuffs.

The straps around Harry's wrist and ankles slid away. He struggled to sit up. Professor Snape was at his side when he managed to swing his legs over the side of the table.

"All right, Harry?" Snape laid a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Just blurry, sir."

"You can _not_ take him!" Fondorn bullied his way in front of them. "Mr. Potter is a sick young man. Sirius _Black_ is his guardian and godfather, not _you_ Snape. I don't know what kind of snake tricks you –"

A wand was pointed at the man's nose. "The writ is signed by the entire Wizengamot. Mr. Potter comes with me."

"But – but – but –"

"Come along, Harry." Snape helped him slide off the table. The world went woozy around him as he tried to stand. Snape scooped him up as everything began to tilt and fall.

"You see? He's clearly unwell."

"I have plenty to say about _you_ and your so-called abilities, Fondorn. For the moment, though, they must be set aside. You will step away and allow us to leave."

"But…"

"It's a real writ, Fondorn, you twit. Let him go!" Someone hissed.

Harry rested his head against Snape's shoulder as silence fell over the room. He felt Snape's hold grow tight – then, they were moving, the Potion Master's long strides eating up the distance between them and freedom. Harry curled a hand in the man's robe and closed his eyes. He'd known the man would come. He couldn't help the small part of his heart that had hoped Sirius would have come as well.

**qpqpqpqp**

Later, curled up in the corner of the couch in Professor Snape's office, he rode out the older man's prickly wrath.

"You should have said nothing," the Potions Master paced in tight circles before the hearth.

"They would have taken me whether I told them or not."

"You risk too much, Mr. Potter!"

Harry flinched. "I'm sorry."

The older man stopped pacing. "Mr. Potter – Harry." He let out a harsh breath. "Do you have any idea what they could have done to you?"

"Yes."

"The tests, the – what?"

Harry drew his knees to his chest. "I know what they can do to me. I know very well what they can do to me."

A dark robe appeared before him. Severus knelt down so they were eye to eye with each other. "Are you saying that you knew this would happen?"

He paused. "Yes," he admitted.

"Why did you not _tell_ us?"

Harry ducked his head. "It's because of…Sirius." He drew in a sharp breath. "He'll – he'll be able to write it off now, won't he? The Healers had me, their initial tests proved nothing. He – he won't have to worry –"

Hands wrapped around his shoulders. "You idiotic boy. That is no reason, _none_, to have risked yourself for that."

"I'll be under his house for the next two years," Harry said. "I have to figure something out. I can't keep lying that long. I don't want to."

"You would subject yourself to this _mad_ plan instead?"

"If it worked? Then yes."

"Harry…" The hands tightened their grip, but never to the point of pain. "Did Draco know of this?"

"No. He wouldn't have let me go through with it."

The hands released him. "Merlin save me from foolish Gryffindor plans." Harry risked a glance at the man. Severus sat back on his heels, faced turned in profile as he studied something on the far side of the room.

"It wasn't that foolish," he picked at the threads of his pants. "They needed a target, anyhow."

Severus' gaze snapped back to Harry's face. "Care to repeat that, young man?"

"The attack scares them," Harry ran his thumb along a ragged patch of his trousers. "They have no suspects and a lot of dead muggles. Scrimgeour needed something he can report to the newspapers – saying that they had a lead and are investigating it. That way Scrimgeour isn't left to look like a fool the first days of his office. If he has a goal, a target to tell the people about, then they won't lose their faith in him like people did with Fudge."

"You decided this?"

He let out a soft sigh. "Fate seems to be the one who thinks I'm the best distraction, really."

"I don not believe in _fate_, Mr. Potter. We _create_ our own destinies."

"Sometimes," Harry rested a chin on his knee. "And sometimes fate decides to believe in you."

"Words of wisdom from your oracle?" Severus rose to his feet in fits and starts, the hard set of his mouth white with anger.

"Yes," Harry watched the man move around the room. "Where's Draco?"

"Young Mr. Malfoy was collected by his father to go speak to the Wizengamot."

"Mr. Malfoy and Draco got the writ?"

"And the Headmaster," Severus stopped in front of the crackling fire. "It was a near thing."

"You had time. They were fighting amongst themselves for the most part."

"One test, just _one_, Mr. Potter and they could have laid your medical history out for all to see."

"You don't want people to know about the potions?"

"That is not –," the man stopped and took a long, deep breath. "You have broken several ministry laws by ingesting the Vision Potion. You have admitted this in front of the Minister. Whatever debt you have with them is now wiped clean, Harry. _Someone_ will leak the news."

"Of course they will," Harry tilted his head to one side. "It's one of the reasons why I told them. If _I_ say it, citing my reasons about Voldemort, then it won't look like I'm hiding anything. They would have found out about it, one way or the other. They already had the rumors, plus the statement from that first year Slytherin student." A thought occurred to him. "I thought Fudge was the one with the proof of my taking the potion, not Scrimgeour."

Severus went very still. "You are right, Mr. Potter. Our missing first year never returned to Hogwarts. We were told her family relocated to the United States." The Potions Master turned to face Harry. "The records of the interrogation would be there. If Scrimgeour had half a brain he would have questioned all of Fudge's staff before dismissing them. He would have heard rumors about your indiscretions, I would wager." Long, thin fingers tapped against his robe. "Scrimgeour was simply looking to verify the fact. Without the need of a child's interrogation to prove it."

Harry felt his stomach sour. "I read it all wrong, didn't I?"

Severus frowned, but seemed more puzzled than angry. "I do not know, Harry." His gaze sharpened as he looked at the boy. "Do _not _do this again, Harry. We are here to help you – something which we cannot do if you do not _tell_ us these things."

"Yes, sir." He ducked his head. "I'm sorry." He risked a glance up at the man. "What do you think will happen now?"

Severus' hands tightened around his arms. "I do not know, but I am sure we will be informed tomorrow morning." A smile that was anything but twisted his face. "Or I should say, later today."

"Will it be bad?"

"Merlin only knows, Mr. Potter." Severus lowered himself in the chair next to the couch. "Is there anything else you wish to disclose to me at this moment?"

Harry caught his lower lip between his teeth. Flashes of dreams shot through his mind. "I…no. I don't think so…I can't tell for sure."

"When you are sure, be sure to inform us," the lack of a glare took some of the sting from the words. "You should return to your room. The Mr. Malfoys should be returning soon."

"What's kept them?"

"Malfoy matters, I suspect," the sigh was weary.

Harry uncurled from his spot on the couch. He hesitated as he stood, glancing down at the older man. "Thank you for coming to get me."

"I would never have left you there, Harry."

Harry's heart constricted. "Thank you," was all he managed to say and fled.

End Chapter Thirty-Three


	34. Chapter 34: Shifting Currents

Chapter Thirty-Four: Shifting Currents

There was no announcement the next day. There was no need. The papers proclaimed it for them – every rag that dared to claim itself as a source of news had a lead story on Harry and the Vision Potion.

Even the Daily Prophet had run the story.

"We couldn't stop it," Draco had looked haggard the next morning when Harry saw him. "By the time we got to the press, everyone was there. Someone in Scrimgeour's staff must have sent owls to anyone with a press. The best thing we could hope for was a good light on the whole mess. Father and I were there until dawn."

The news had hit Hogwarts hard. People avoided Harry in the halls. Several Gryffindors made the ward of the evil eye as he passed. Harry would have held through it fine, if some of the Slytherin first years hadn't given him large, scared eyes as he entered the common room Saturday afternoon. Draco would later tell him that Pansy had sat them down to explain it all to them, but still. The sight of the fear in those young expressions had hurt Harry more than he cared to admit.

Things just got more complicated when Harry learned that Ginny had fallen down a flight of the moving stairs and that Sirius had been with her the entire time Professor Snape had come to rescue Harry from the Healers at St. Mungo's.

Draco had escorted him to the Infirmary door, but promised to stay out of Sirius' sight. They had both agreed that the less they provoked the man, the better it was for them.

The ward was empty, save for the youngest Black and the animagus. They were stationed in a bed near Madam Pomfrey's office. The large windows were open, letting in a cool breeze that cleared the air of the sterile smell that often lingered in the hall.

They didn't hear him approach. Ginny was laughing at something Sirius was saying, the fading bruises on the side of her face making Harry wince.

He stopped, about to creep away, when Ginny noticed him. "Harry!" Her expression lit. Harry was rooted in place.

"Hey, Gin." He kept his eyes on the girl. "I heard you had a tumble. Are you all right?"

"I'm _fine_," the girl rolled her eyes at Sirius. "I was…well, you know about the Unspeakables…" She bit her lip as her smile died.

"Yes," Sirius cut in. "The Unspeakables that rounded everyone up. You -," muscles flexed in Sirius' jaw.

"Why were you on the stairs?" Harry asked her instead.

"This isn't _her_ fault!" Sirius was hot to point out. Harry didn't need him to say it to hear where Sirius placed the full blame.

"They were moving you out," Ginny's hands were clasped tight in her lap. "I – I was trying to stop them. I'd forgotten my cane," she ducked her head, not looking at Sirius. "When the stairs moved, my leg gave out. That's all I remember."

"She fell an entire flight of stairs. One of the Minister's aides caught her before the flight dumped her another whole floor." Sirius' gaze was hot on Harry. "What were you _thinking_, Harry?"

"Me?" Harry said before he could think it over. "I wasn't the one who caused this. I was unconscious myself at the time."

"Oh yes, _that_."

Harry flinched.

"You just _had_ to tell them all, didn't you?"

"Why are you so mad at me?" It wasn't what he'd meant to say.

"Mad, Harry? I'm bloody _pissed_."

"But why?" He could see Ginny was near tears. He was getting there himself.

"Harry – do you have any idea as to what you've done?" Sirius got to his feet. "You – you've admitted to taking the Vision Potion. Do you know what they can do to you know?"

"I had a taste of it last night," he couldn't help the bitter words.

"Good," the animagus retorted, much to Harry's surprise. "Then you'll know that is what Healer Fondorn was wanting to do to you all summer. He seems to think that the potion has affected your brain," Sirius' expression twisted. "No son of James Potter would be that weak. You have to prove them wrong, Harry. I thought we'd done it. I thought we were finally getting through to you."

"Getting _through_?" Harry swallowed back a handful of hurtful words. "Sirius, I can't change who I am."

"Apparently you can. You're not the boy I met three years ago, Harry. You were a Gryffindor, through and through then. What happened?" Sirius' shoulders slumped. "How did I fail? How – what did I do wrong, Harry?"

"Wrong?" Harry rocked back onto his heels. "You didn't do anything wrong, Sirius."

"I must have," Sirius sat with a tired slump. "You're slipping, every time I see you Harry. I keep thinking it'll pass but it never does."

Something hot and painful was lodged in Harry's throat. "It'll pass, Sirius." He didn't need Ginny's pleading gaze to spur on the words.

"I'm beginning to doubt it, Harry." He ran a hand over his face.

"Please," Harry's hands clenched and released at his sides. "I'll be better. I promise."

"We'll see, Harry." Sirius sighed again and turned away. "Perhaps you should go, Harry. Ginny's spending one more night here."

"But…"

"It's okay, Harry." Her bright eyes pleaded with him. "I'm fine, really. It'll be okay." She cut a look at the animagus. Harry shut his mouth with a hard swallow and nodded.

The walk out of the Infirmary was the longest of his life.

**qpqp**

Draco took one look at him and took Harry's elbow, guiding them away from the heavy Infirmary doors. "What happened?"

"Weren't you listening?"

The look Draco sent his way was sharp. "You asked me not to, remember?"

Harry choked back a bitter snort. It wasn't Draco he was angry at. "I'm sorry," he said instead.

Pale eyes studied his face. "Come on." Draco slid an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Where are we going?"

"Elsewhere."

That made Harry blink and momentarily forget the unpleasantness he had just left behind. "Elsewhere?" He repeated.

"Yes."

"But…"

"I think," Draco led them around a distant corner. "You need to talk to someone and Auror Rayne won't be able to get to the castle for a week. Right?" He arched an eyebrow at Harry.

"Right."

"Well, then. Come on."

The silver bracelet around Draco's wrist slipped from his cuff. Harry blinked at the door to an old storage room that was outlined for a brief moment with brilliant white light. A second later, a Gate stood before them.

He turned to Draco. "You've been experimenting again, haven't you?"

"Tinkering, Harry. Just tinkering. Completely different from before. Come along."

They stepped through together.

**qpqp**

The village was just as Harry remembered it. Gwenn's cottage had a thin stream of smoke spiraling up from the chimney. Harry noted with some surprise that several of the other cottages seemed to have woken. A few had bright curtains in the windows, and several of the other chimneys showed signs of life.

"How…"

"It's the first Gate I built," Draco caught his hand and tugged him forward. Their feet kicked up puffs of dust as they approached. It was warmer in the small village than it had been at Hogwarts. The sweater Harry had on was more than enough to keep him comfortable.

He tipped his head back and let Draco take the lead. He'd missed coming here, he realized with a start. Something in his chest relaxed at being in the Otherworld. Some part of him felt at home in the god's realm. It made his throat want to tighten up and his eyes prickle. _I wish Sirius could understand this_, he blinked fast a few times.

Then Gwenn opened the rough cottage door with a wide smile. His walls crumbled to dust in seconds.

The warm hold of a mother's embrace was exactly what he had needed.

**qpqpqpqp**

The turbulence of the weekend was not enough to prepare them all for Monday morning.

Draco watched Harry with one wary eye. The smaller boy had seemed calmer after their visit with Gwenn. It had helped that Merle was not there to tower over them. Things in Gwenn's part of the Otherworld seemed to be perking up; her neighbors, she'd confided in them, were all small river and forest deities. All very shy and quiet, but lovely and kind, as she was quick to assure them. Not very trusting, either, but she would put in a good word about her visitors. They would come around in no time.

After their visit with the matronly goddess, Harry had seemed better, happier. Later that night, Harry had told him what had happened with Sirius in the Infirmary – Draco would have liked nothing better than to curse Black from one end of the world to the other – but Harry had needed him and Draco was damned if he was going to cause the other boy any more pain that weekend.

After all, he would need a plan first. And some allies. And a secure alibi. That would take time to procure.

The fear that had trailed in Harry's wake was also something that drove the blond mad. Harry _hadn't_ thought every thing through, and still thought too much like a Gryffindor for Draco's liking – but he couldn't deny that Harry's heart had been in the right place. His grasp of the politics of the situation was getting better as well. Draco wished Harry's trust in them would get better – and soon. He never wanted to see Harry carried off by sneering Unspeakables ever again.

Still, there was something going on at the head table that had Draco's nerves on a fine edge. Umbridge looked far too happy for anyone's pleasure and Severus had a thunderous scowl set firmly on his face.

"Attention, your attention please," Dumbledore held up his hands for quiet. "By now, I am sure all of you have heard of the sacrifices our Mr. Potter has endured for our protection."

_Nice_, Draco ducked his head to hide his smirk. The stirrings and whispers that rose up in the wake of the headmaster's words were quite loud. _Trust the headmaster to put it that way_.

"Yes," the old wizard continued. "I am sure you have all read the many opinionated stories that have flooded our school this weekend. As a result of these highly opinionated pieces, the board of governors has had no choice but to give way to some of the concerns listed by the parents of the students of this school."

Draco found Harry's hand. It was chilly and damp with sweat. He made a face, but held on tight.

"As per their request, a monitor for the safety of the children has been appointed for Hogwarts," Dumbledore did not smile. "Professor Umbridge, in an act of magnanimity, has accepted the role."

Set and match, Draco felt the acid bite in his stomach. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's smile was sharp enough to cut. Harry's hand tightened around his – Draco didn't like this development one bit.

Umbridge stood, her hands clasped tight under her plump chest. "Children, do not worry," she beamed a smile out over the tables – ignoring Slytherin pointedly. "I am sure you all have concerns. I am asking that you all come to me with whatever worries – and information – you may have. Do not fear. Everything will be just _fine_ in no time." One last round of fake smiles and she sank down in her chair.

As Dumbledore continued with his announcements, Draco kept a wary watch on the beaming Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She did not look their way once, and he couldn't make up his mind if that was good or not.

Somehow, he just _knew_ things were about to take a turn for the worst.

**qpqpqpqp**

Hermione blew a soft stream of air over the last line of wet ink on her parchment. It was late and Madam Pince would be making her last rounds. She wanted the letter dry by then. She would be late for curfew if not.

The day had been full of surprises. What Harry had done was no surprise to her – she'd known about the potion for months. The troubling turn of the papers worried her – there were people who needed to know the truth, but she could not risk it all in a letter. A meeting would be best – but the next Hogsmead weekend was just around the corner. She wasn't sure if they had the time to set everything up. There were some secrets she could not risk to pen and paper.

She slipped out as Madam Pince began her sweep of the Restricted Section. The Owlery was a bit of a hike from the library, but she had to risk it. Besides, no one would notice if a school owl went out late and came back by morning. Hermione received post all the time. People would not think twice about it.

She tried not to use the same bird twice in a row. The irritable creatures pecked at her hands, but she tapped her chosen messenger on the beak with a steady finger. Her message attached, she whispered the address and gave him a heave, flinging the startled owl into the air with a screech.

A quick check of the time had her using a word her mother was sure she would have never heard from her daughter's mouth. Hermione ran for the Gryffindor dorms, hoping to make it in time. The last thing she needed was Professor McGonagall to become involved in her late night wanderings.

She never saw Sasha step out from a dark corner. The seventh year Slytherin watched Hermione's retreat with shadowed eyes. A quick check of the owls in the Owlery gave her the name of the bird Hermione had chosen for the evening.

It would take a simple spell to tell her where the creature had gone that evening. If there was no fidelius charm attached to the place. But they were so rarely used, Sasha did not worry about it.

She tucked the owl's name away on a piece of paper, stored in her pocket for the next day's retrieval. There was nothing she could do about it now, nothing but to wait and see.

"What are you up to, Hermione Granger?" She murmured into the quiet dark.

There was no answer.

End Chapter Thirty-Four


	35. Chapter 35: Umbridge

Chapter Thirty-Five: Umbridge

"Hogsmead weekend!"

There was a flurry of activity in the Slytherin common room. Harry watched it all from his secured seat on the couch, the black mood that had been hovering over him since breakfast surrounding him like a cloud.

The news had come with Sirius' usual Friday morning letter. Their tone was stiffer than usual of late, but Harry had expected them to be. But this…

"Bloody hypocrite," he muttered, sinking back into his seat, arms folded across his chest and his lower lip in serious danger of sticking out.

The younger years were in clumps here and there around the common room. All of them had on their heaviest cloaks and the brightly patterned green-and-white House scarves. There was an excited thrum to the room that even Harry could feel – much to his continuing displeasure.

"Now that's a face," a voice near his ear caused Harry to squeak and jump.

Blaise grinned down at Harry's furious glare.

"I heard Black rescinded your permission to go," the taller boy leaned against the high back of the couch, hands dangling down against the cushions.

"…Yeah," Harry turned away with a sigh.

"He must be really pissed."

Harry snorted, feeling his hands clench tight for a moment. "Sure he is," his jaw ached.

"So you're just going to accept it?"

Harry frowned, tilted a glance up at Blaise. "What do you mean?"

A hand ruffled his hear. "You're the former Gryffindor, Harry. Figure it out." Blaise straightened, his eyes on a figure that had just emerged from the boy's side of the dorm. "Neville? Ready to go?"

"Oh? Yes, I mean yes." Neville patted at his pockets with a distant expression on his face. "I know I put that letter somewhere…"

"Did you lose it? Again?"

"Blaise."

"I'm just teasing, see? Here it is, you gave it to me for safe keeping."

"Oh, thank Merlin. I didn't want to write all that again."

Harry watched the exchange, some of his ire leaking away at the warmth the boys always seemed to put off when they were together. "Your final application essay, Neville?" He asked.

Neville beamed a smile at him. "Yes, can you believe it? I'll be approved for summer and holiday break work when I turn this in. It'll all go towards my internship, so all I'll have to finish is about six months. Then they can hire me as a full time employee."

"That's amazing, Neville. Really."

"Gran's over the moon about it," Neville rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, sharing a smile with Blaise. "She's not so crazy about me finding my own place to live."

"You're moving out this year?"

"Oh, no, not yet." Neville fiddled with the buttons of his cloak. "Gran's put her foot down, saying I'm to live at home until after I graduate. I – I don't mind, really. I'd hate to live alone." A shy glace at Blaise had Neville's face starting to turn red.

"My mothers are already scouting houses," Blaise told Harry with a wink and elaborate sigh.

"Well, do tell them to get one with a good nursery," Harry managed to say with a straight face.

"Draco _told_ you, didn't he? I'll kill him."

"Who's killing me, now?"

"You told Harry about my uncle!" Blaise stabbed a finger at the blond who had decided to appear at that particular moment. "You said you wouldn't!"

Draco studied them all with a slow blink. "I haven't had enough caffeine for this."

Neville caught Blaise's arm. "Let's head out," he tugged the other boy away.

Harry stared up at Draco. "That was a truly disturbing story."

"It's more disturbing that it's true."

"…Yeah."

"And that it was seriously considered in the wizengamot for a while."

"Oh, hell."

"Thankfully people came to their senses and vetoed the measure. Still, it pops up from time to time as a viable option for repopulating the wizarding world."

Harry curled an arm over his belly. "Not. In. A. Million. Years."

"I won't argue with that."

"Argue what?" Ginny asked.

Both of them turned at the sound of her voice. "Male pregnancy," Harry answered.

Ginny made a face, paused and then seemed to consider it. "Well, it would be amusing to see you go through it all."

"Ginny!"

The laughter faded from her eyes. "I – I was just…do you want me to get you anything from Hogsmead, Harry?"

Harry drew in a breath, then stopped. "No, because I'm going."

"Harry!"

"Ginny," he gave her a _look_. "I'm getting tired of Harry-do-this-not-that letters. Half the time he wants me to act like I used to, then he comes out with edicts and crap that tell me the exact opposite." He shook his head. "I'm tired of doing it his way. I'm going."

Ginny chewed on her lower lip. "But – but he really does mean it for the best."

"I know, Gin, but he needs to make up his mind one way or the other. It's not fair to me – or you – for him to keep jumping back and forth."

"But!"

"Don't worry, Ginny. Honest. There's nothing you can do that'll make him mad. Sirius and I need to work this out on our own."

"…If you're sure."

"Positive, Ginny."

"I…I was going with Pansy and Millicent," Ginny's hands were buried deep in her pockets. "Do – do you want me to come with you?"

It was nice, Harry reflected, that Ginny had seemed to come around to his side. "No, you go on with them. You'll have more fun, I bet."

"O-Okay…" She hesitated for another moment. "It'll work out, Harry. I know it will."

"Of course," he managed a smile for her. She turned as Pansy and Millicent appeared, both laughing over some magazine held between them. They waved the younger girl over and soon all of them were cackling over some strange piece of arcane female humor.

"Ready to go, then? Draco asked with a smile.

"Let me get my cloak."

"And scarf."

"And scarf."

"And cap."

"Draco."

"Cap, Harry."

"Fine, fine, cap too."

**qpqp**

Snow, new and old, crunched under their feet as they made their way through the streets of Hogsmead. They had lunch in another tucked-away café Harry had had no idea about.

"Where do you find these places?" He asked Draco as they looked at the large platters of sandwiches and chips that were set in front of them.

"Old Slytherin tradition," Draco ate his sandwich with a fork and knife. Harry rolled his eyes at the show of fussiness and used his hands. It was true, though, the café they sat in held mostly locals and a few other Slytherins.

"You get a hand out with approved lunch choices or something?" Harry mopped at his chin with his napkin.

"Nonsense, Harry, nothing so plebian. An older student usually shows the third years around on their first trip."

"Gotcha."

"They're also shown the exit routes," Draco frowned at his food, moving a small piece of ham to the edge of his plate.

"Exit routes?"

Pale eyes glanced at him, then away. "Slytherin has not been a popular House for a long time. Sometime in the eighteen hundreds, a mob of muggleborn Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs attacked a group of Slytherins and Ravenclaws. Not many people remember this, but it's one of the things that's passed down in the House."

"A mob of students attacked other students?"

"It wasn't…uncommon for more lethal fights to break out between the Houses back then." Draco gave a graceful shrug. "Things have changed."

"And this connects to these escape routes…?"

"Well, almost ten Slytherin students were killed in the fighting. Most all of them were first years – that's about when they restricted second year and down from coming to the village. Anyhow, the children didn't know how to get out of the alley they'd been boxed into and none of them could do much advanced magic," Draco's expression turned grim for a moment. "It was…not a fair fight."

"Were the Gryffindors punished?"

"Yes and no. Most were sent back to their homes, expelled. The Hufflepuffs claimed their innocence, saying they were just following the crowd. It's one of the reasons why Hufflepuff has a shaded reputation with Slytherin."

"That's not…fair."

Draco gave him a lopsided smile. "That's the history of the House, Harry. You get pretty bitter about it, especially during first year when all the stories are told."

"So _that's_ why you were so…" Harry waved a hand.

"Pushy about House pride?" Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"Exactly."

Harry pushed his chips around on his plate. "We don't – didn't pass stories down like that in Gryffindor."

"…Perhaps it's for the better," Draco shrugged. "I don't think so, but in a way, if you're ignorant about the things that have been done to your House, then the less you can be upset by it. Of course, _not_ knowing it means you're doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again."

Harry made a face at his food. "That's bloody depressing."

"Isn't it?" Draco pushed away his plate. "Come on, let's get something sweet and play a prank on Gryffindors."

"Draco!"

"What?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Never mind. Come on."

**qpqp**

Their Hogsmead weekend was almost perfect. Except for the part where Harry was caught inside the joke shop by a Ravenclaw prefect who saw fit to march Harry back to the castle herself.

Then they were met by Umbridge instead of their Head of House.

The prefect left Harry with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Draco was at his side, having refused the prefect's orders to leave. Both of them were to be assigned detentions, the prefect had warned. Draco's response was anything but civil.

"My, my," Umbridge folded her hands at her waist. Harry rubbed at his nose; to him, the woman always smelled like baby powder and some strange, stuffy flower perfume. It made his sinuses go wild anytime she drew near.

"I am greatly disappointed, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," she pursed her mouth, the heavy make up unable to hide the thick wrinkles that formed. "I would have thought Slytherin House was more responsible than this."

Harry shared a look with Draco and stayed quiet.

"I'm afraid this calls for drastic measures, especially for you, Mr. Potter." He thought he saw a brief, vicious smile cross her face. "Yes, yes," she continued. "We _all_ know about the things you have…taken, don't we? We can't have a person like that running around unmonitored."

Harry felt his nails cut into the flesh of his palms. "I'm not a danger to anyone."

"Oh, but you are, Mr. Potter," she tsked. "You and your Housemates have brought such…creatures into the world, confusing young minds everywhere, yes." Her hands tightened. "We shall have to do something about that, yes."

"We haven't done anything wrong!" Harry protested. "And the gods aren't creatures or monsters like you make out!"

"Such lies, Mr. Potter, do not become you."

"He's not lying," Draco spoke up, taking a step between the professor and Harry.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. This shall not look pleasant on your school record."

"What won't?"

"Threatening a teacher."

The blond rocked back on his heels. "You wouldn't. You can't."

"What I can and cannot do is none of your business, Mr. Malfoy. Rest assured, though, that I can and I will make your life miserable if I so choose."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You overstep your bounds."

Her wand was in her hand and pointed at Draco before Harry could move. A curse Harry had never heard before snapped out between them.

"What are you doing!" Harry shouted at the woman, catching Draco as he crumpled to the ground.

"Keeping my word," the smile was back. It caused shivers to run down Harry's spine. "Now, you are going to listen to what I say, Mr. Potter and you will agree to everything."

"And if I refuse?"

"I've bound Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," the glitter grew in the woman's eyes. "Would you care to see what else I can do to the boy now that I have my spell on him?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Fine," he croaked out. "What do you want?"

This time her smile showed teeth.

**qpqp**

As expected, the Howler that came for Harry on Sunday morning entertained most of the Great Hall. Sirius' shouts were mortifying. Ginny hid behind her hands as Sirius berated Harry for his stupidity. The letter's final explosion sent ashes in all directions.

There was a deep well of silence after the Howler had disappeared. "Well then," Harry said, breaking it. "That's one way to start the day."

The ensuing rush of whispers, he was sure, were mostly aimed at him.

Draco rubbed at his temple. "That guardian of yours, Harry…"

"I know."

"Are you going to write back?" Ginny asked, peeking out from behind her hands.

"Not yet," Harry picked at the sooty remains of his meal. "I'll let him calm down a bit first."

"I can't believe you were caught," Ginny heaved a sigh.

"Yeah," Harry shook his head.

"Whom do you have detention with?"

"Umbridge."

"You do?" Draco rubbed at his head again. "Why can't I remember?"

"You fell down, remember?" Harry couldn't look at him. It had been hard enough coming up with a lie that had suited Madam Pomfrey. "Madam Pomfrey doesn't want you eating too many sweets ever again."

"I've never had such a problem before," Draco made a sharp gesture. "I wish that bloody headache potion would start to work."

It was all Harry could do to choke down his tea. He didn't have to look at the Head Table to know that Umbridge was smirking in their general direction.

"When's your detention, Harry?" Neville leaned around Blaise to look at him.

"I've a detention every Sunday night until the holiday break," Harry flexed his right hand. The faint sting of Umbridge's little 'demonstration' was a constant reminder every time he gripped a cup.

Sunday afternoon was spent finishing the homework Harry had refused to do on Friday. Draco and Blaise were pulled away by Pansy and some of the older years to talk about politics. More inquiries had been sent out about their missing second year student, a girl, Harry had learned, that was named Martha. He was more than happy to skip the talk; he needed time alone to settle his mind.

Umbridge's…deal was something that weighed on him. He wanted to tell Draco, tell Snape…but the woman's threat stopped him every time. He hadn't thought the woman was good at magic, not with the attitude she put off in class, but he'd learned better. She was _very_ good at magic – especially the darker aspect of it.

He was not blind to the irony of the situation.

What he needed was a way to research the woman's spell that would not set off the others. He needed to find a way to break whatever binding she had on the blond before he could risk telling Draco about all of it. And to do that he needed help. A bookish kind of help.

Harry knew what he had to do.

**qpqp**

He found Hermione in a far corner of the library. Books on pure blood etiquette were piled up around her.

"Hermione?"

Her head jerked up from the table. Wide eyes stared at him. "H-Harry?"

He settled his book bag against his hip. "Hi," he curled up one side of his mouth, but it didn't feel much like a smile. It had taken a lot of wiggling and arguing to get his Housemates to let Harry come down to the library with people other than those most close to him. The hurt that had flashed in Draco's eyes had twisted at his gut. He'd have to make it up to the other boy later.

"…What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione shoved a handful of hair from her face.

He took a deep, nervous breath. "I need help," the words wanted to stick in his throat.

The guarded expression did not fade from her face. "Help that Draco and the others can't give?"

He took a chance. "Help that Draco can't know about."

Something moved in her eyes. "I see," she closed the book in front of her. "Tell me what's happened."

He sank into the chair across from her and told her everything.

**qpqpqpqp**

Pansy and Millicent had escorted Harry to his detention. Draco was nowhere to be found. Harry's gut twisted at the thought.

Umbridge was behind her desk, grading papers when he stepped into the room. "On time, how punctual," she cooed. He wanted to snipe back at her, but kept his peace.

Her smile grew by a few degrees. "The charming Mr. Malfoy is not with you, I see."

"I'm here for my detention," Harry lifted his chin. "Let's get it over with."

"Sit, then," an imperious finger gestured at the desk in the first row. Harry sank onto the hard bench, noticing the sheaf of paper, the pen and the empty well in front of him.

"Your assignment is to write _I must not tell lies_ one hundred times, Mr. Potter." She touched her fingers to her lips. "You'll stay here until you finish them all."

"Yes, ma'am." He gritted his teeth against anything else he might have wanted to say. The first few lines were oddly easy. It stung, but Harry had injured himself more by cooking dinner for the Dursleys.

It wasn't until the twenties that the agony started.

Each pass of the pen dug the wounds open deeper. Blood made the pen slippery in his grip. His left hand was clamped around the edge of the desk, so tight his knuckles were blanched white.

He was shaking, covered in sweat by the time he finished the last line. The ink well had a thin film of blood along the bottom. Umbridge had stopped grading ages ago, choosing to watch him with bright eyes instead.

"All done, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Bring it up, then."

His legs felt stiff as he marched up to her desk. The world also wanted to wobble around him. He had a vague notion that the blood loss was probably bad for him, but he couldn't remember why at the moment.

She gave the sheets a perfunctory glance. "Remember, Mr. Potter," her smile had not dimmed a watt. "Every Sunday until Christmas holiday," she tilted her head to one side. "It would be unfortunate if you missed any assignments. Poor Mr. Malfoy's head might not be up to snuff if that happened."

Harry clenched his jaw. "I'll be here," he forced out.

"Oh, yes, you will be."

"May I go?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter. Of course."

It took a lot of will power not to storm from the room. Harry even closed the door behind him with a gentle touch. He was afraid he'd rip it off its hinges otherwise.

The halls were empty as he made his way down to the dorms. His Housemates would be furious for him walking back alone, but he'd handle that when they decided to start shouting.

He cradled his hand all the way back to the dorms. No one noticed the bleeding wounds at all.

**qpqpqpqp**

Draco's silent treatment continued on into the next day. What bothered Harry more was the frequent rub at his temples that Draco couldn't hide throughout the day.

"What's wrong?" Harry had managed to corner Draco outside their last class of the day.

"Nothing," Draco's iciness had softened. "I'm fine."

"You've got a headache?"

"Just stress," Draco waved it off. "We're getting responses back from America."

"Ah," Harry had time to say before the bell rang. They scrambled into their class and into their seats. Draco's chill towards him seemed to settle back onto the blond as Harry dodged his invitation to join the other sixth years in the common room. Harry had a girl to meet in the library – not that he was going to _tell_ Draco that.

He was feeling particularly glum when he slunk into Hermione's chosen study corner.

"Any luck?" He asked her.

"None," her answer deflated the hope that had tried to build in his chest.

"Any idea at all what she did to him?"

That earned him a _look_. "It's a _binding_, Harry. That part is rather straight forward."

"Then what's the problem?"

"_Which_ binding she used." The girl tugged out a thick tome. "This book is _all_ binding spells, Harry. It has two _other_ books on how to break them. I have yet to find the spell she used in it."

"Isn't there an index?"

She rolled her eyes. "I should be so lucky. They're not even alphabetized."

"Oh, Merlin," Harry laid his head on the desk.

"It's going to take a while."

"I don't have a while."

"You're sure something will happen if you tell him?"

"She said if I told another Slytherin then the binding would react," he rubbed at his face.

"Is he having any side affects?"

"He's been having headaches, but I don't know if they are from the curse or not."

"Bugger all."

He gaped at her. "Hermione!"

She shot him a cross look. "What?" She grabbed another book.

"That's not like you!"

"What's not – oh," she huffed a sigh. "Forget it, Harry."

"But…"

Too serious eyes pinned him in place. "Things change, Harry. People change. I'm not the same person I was last year. I'm not the same person I was at the beginning of summer. You should know how that works by now."

He studied her face. "I know," he said. "But I can worry about it too."

"There's nothing to worry about," she dropped his gaze. "I'll keep looking. You should go before they start looking for you."

"But…"

"Go on. I'll get in touch with you if I find something."

There was nothing left to say. He slunk away, feeling worse than he had for some time, settling back into the solitary table that had been his refuge the year before. His hand throbbed as he started on his homework.

_Please_, he closed his eyes for a moment. _Let her find something soon_.

**qpqpqpqp**

Hermione did not find anything. December came to Hogwarts with a violent storm that echoed the shouting match Harry and Draco had in the common room. All had fled before their wrath. Draco had conned onto the fact that Harry was hiding something. He wanted to know what.

Harry knew he couldn't say a damn thing and felt like a heel about all of it.

Things seemed to settle down after the first week of silences that were punctuated by shouting matches. It resolved one night, quite by accident.

It was the oddest fight Harry had ever been a part of.

"It's _my_ bloody socks!" Draco threw his hands into the air. They were in Harry's room, the rest of their House having long gotten tired of their snapping at each other.

"So keep them in your bloody room!" Harry didn't want to fight. He really didn't. But if he didn't do something to distract Draco, the boy would start asking Harry questions he could not answer. Again.

"I sleep half the time in here, so I should keep some in here as well!"

"Then don't sleep here!" The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them. The hurt that flashed across Draco's face hit him in the gut. Harry spun away, folding his arms around his middle, facing the fire.

There was a long moment of silence from behind him.

"What's really going on, Harry?"

"Nothing," he said and knew it came out too fast. "There's nothing wrong, all right? I didn't mean that, you know I didn't."

"You meant something," the tone made Harry wince.

"Just…please, can we drop it?"

"No."

"Draco…" Hands settled on his shoulders, making him jump.

"Harry," Draco slid hesitant arms around him. "Why aren't you talking to me?"

"What do you mean? I talk to you every bloody day."

"You're not writing down your dreams anymore," Draco continued. "You eat with your left hand now. You won't go see Pythia. You barely spend time with any of us any more. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"That'll get you places, Draco, calling me a _liar_ and I –," arms squeezed him so tight he squeaked.

"Something happened, didn't it?"

Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Draco hooked his chin over Harry's shoulder. He started up a gentle sway that leeched some of the tension out of Harry's body. "Harry…if something happened, something bad, but you can't tell me because something even worse will happen, stop swaying."

It was a lifeline. A thread Harry knew would snap and shatter if he denied it one more time. He considered it. Draco was already at his wit's end. Harry didn't need a gift of foresight to know his relations with people were starting to fray. Professor Snape was even starting to get testy with him again.

He was so tired of being alone.

He stopped swaying.

Draco let out a harsh breath and a curse. "You can't say anything?"

All Harry could do was bow his head.

"You can't even infer it?"

He tried to move out of Draco's hold.

Draco reeled him back in. "All right, all right. I'm sorry," he turned Harry around and held him close. "The things you get yourself into, Harry…" He sighed again. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," Harry mumbled into the blond's shoulder.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Because the something worse has something to do with me, right?"

"R-," Harry snapped his jaws shut and jerked away. "_Nothing_ is wrong," he glared at the other boy.

Instead of snapping back, Draco took him by the shoulders. "Why won't you tell Severus?"

"Because there's _nothing wrong_."

Draco studied his face. "A curse then, with parameters."

"It's _nothing_."

"You can't get help from the only people who have shown you succor," Draco's hands tightened on Harry's shoulders. "Are you being injured?"

Harry felt sick. "It's nothing, really. I don't know what you're on about."

"Bloody _hell_."

Harry sank down onto his chair, feeling cold. Draco knelt in front of him, taking his hands.

"I'm sorry," the blond said after a moment.

"What? No – Draco, no, please – I – it's all right. It's just…" Harry's face felt hot and he _hated _his life at the moment. "It's nothing. Really."

Draco let out a sharp breath. "Right. I'm still sorry."

"No –"

"I'm sorry for not catching on faster," Draco shook their clasped hands. Harry couldn't hide the flinch. He yanked his right hand out from the hold and held it to his chest.

Draco stared at him. "That's where you're hurt?"

Harry flailed for something to say. "It's…"

"Nothing, right." Draco pursed his lips, eyes staying on Harry's hand. He raised his gaze, expression softening as he studied Harry's face. "It'll be all right, Harry."

"You don't know that." Harry shook his head. When Draco winced, one hand coming up to rub at his temple, it was all Harry could do to stay in place. "You _see_!" He wanted to smack the blond on the shoulder. "It was _nothing_!"

Draco went very, very still. His hand dropped away as he stood. He reached down to touch Harry on the cheek. "It will be _all_ _right_, Harry."

"Draco…"

"Stay here for now, all right?" A thumb swept across Harry's cheek. "Just stay in the dorms."

"…I can't." Harry felt a rush of…something slam through his stomach. "It's Sunday. I have detention."

"I'll get Severus to excuse you."

"You can't!" Harry shot to his feet.

"Harry…" Pale eyes were still narrowed. "All right, okay." He curled his hands around Harry's face. "Breathe, Harry. Calm down, breathe."

With a rush, Harry realized that the faint feeling was coming from his own panicked breathing. He curled his hands around Draco's wrists, wanting nothing more than to stay there, hiding, in the dorms.

Then his right hand gave a pulse of agony and all his hopes shattered.

"You've got detention in a few hours," Draco guided Harry to the bed. "Nap for now. We'll get you when you have to go."

"But – I can't be late. I _can't_ be late, Draco, I –"

"I know. You won't be late," Draco got him settled under the covers. "We'll even come get you after, all right?"

"No!"

"Shh, Harry. It'll be fine. Sleep, all right? You look tired."

"But…"

"Sleep, Harry. Please."

He _was_ tired, but he couldn't – he just couldn't risk being late. Umbridge had made that more than clear. But the warmth of the bed pulled at his bones; he hadn't been sleeping well; Sirius' letters were still a painful thorn in his side; and everything he'd thought was going well had been cracking in his grasp for weeks.

He fell asleep with a whimper of denial.

**qpqp**

The common room went dead silent at Draco's entrance. Pansy's expression was pained. Some of the younger years started edging for the door. They'd all learned not to be around Draco after another one of his fights with Harry.

_That – that – that idiot_. He didn't feel how his magic boiled around him, sending papers and small objects flying.

"Draco?" Blaise stood up in alarm.

"We," he stopped near the hearth. The fire roared, startling Neville who was closest to it. "We have a problem," he forced out between stiff lips.

Alarm faded to determination on their faces. For the first time in _weeks_ Draco had something he could attack, a problem he knew he could solve.

He wanted it solved_ immediately_.

Gathering them all with a look, he rubbed mental hands together with a yowl of rage. It was time to go to work.

**qpqpqpqp**

Gwyn ap Nudd felt the exhaustion in his body as thought it were a foreign thing, something that had nothing to do with him or his mission.

The Hunt was not going well.

How many leagues of the Dark he had traveled he was not sure. Dead things, forgotten things, nightmares, all rose up to challenge him as he forced his own Path through the clinging mists.

There was no sign of the Morrigan.

Sometimes he thought he might be close. Sometimes the hope that dared to stutter to life rose up like a candle – only to be blown out by the arrival of another bizarre monster and the trail gone cold.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. But he did not know what.

He forged on into the Dark, knowing no other way to turn. He had to find the Morrigan. That was his only goal.

**qpqp**

Else where, in the same Dark, the Morrigan screamed, trapped in a net of sticky tendrils that were the Dark but not the Dark. In her rage, she thrashed, slicing deep wounds into her flesh.

The Morrigan, goddess of battle, was trapped.

End Chapter Thirty-Five


	36. Chapter 36: Finding Answers

Chapter Thirty-Six: Finding Answers

"Anything?"

"Not yet."

Draco kicked at a chair, sending it skittering across the room.

"That's not helping." Sasha's tense tone made no dent in his ire. The seventh year's wand was beginning to tremble from the strain of keeping the spell up so long.

"Blaise?" The tremors were growing worse. As one, Sasha traded places with the boy, sagging to her knees once Blaise was in place.

They had retired to one of the warded workrooms once Harry had come back from his 'detention'. Once Draco had explained what was going on with their former Gryffindor, most of the House had seen red. Pansy and Millicent had taken Harry to his appointment and had waited outside the entire time. They had not been pleased by Harry's pallor or trembling when he had left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Once they had settled Harry into bed, along with a handy drowsy potion that Draco had knicked from Severus' cabinet, the rest of the sixth years and Sasha had moved into the workrooms.

Draco wanted whatever curse it was _off_. Immediately. But he also wanted proof and a record of the curse breaking, so they had been forced to do things the hard and long way.

A formal circle had to be called. The four corners were set as anchors, their sole purpose was to record the events inside the circle. They'd been forced to bring in more than their core group of friends for help. Neville, Pansy, Millicent and Daphne Greengrass held the corners. Sasha and Blaise were the two strong enough to hold the technically Dark spell that would find the curse and tell them how to break it. Finding the bindings on Draco's memories had been easy enough, but they were running into a problem with the curse itself.

Blaise was a bit pale. It was late and their four anchors were starting to droop where they stood. There would be no sleep for them that night.

"Anything?" Draco was confined to the center of the circle, unable to access his magic while their spell was working.

Blaise's shoulders were hunched. "I can _see_ it. It's purple and it surrounds your brain, but the spell can't tell me what the curse _is_."

"Damn it."

"We've been at this for hours," Sasha pointed out from her place on the ground. "We're apt to make stupid mistakes at this point. Let's break, nap and try again tomorrow." She made a face. "Later tonight," she amended.

"But…"

"Draco," Blaise cut in.

He took one look at his friend's face and sighed. "Yes, fine. Let's do that."

All the anchors sagged to their knees after Blaise cut the spell. Neville bent over, touching his forehead to the cool stone of the workroom floor.

"She's not powerful enough to create her own curse of this power," Sasha watched as Blaise helped Neville to his feet. Daphne had already fled the room on shaky legs. Millicent had Pansy's arm over her shoulder.

"A spell we can't break," Draco felt his jaw clench. "I doubt that."

"No…" Sasha had a fine line furrowed between her brows. "No, I think I have an idea."

"You do? What?"

She shook her head. "Let me check some things out in the Library. I'll let you know what I find tonight."

"But…"

"Draco," she gave him a flat stare. "Go get some sleep."

He made a face at her and helped her to her feet. "Bossy, bossy girl. Poor Seamus." He had to dodge a swipe. It had the others leaving with tired chuckles instead of defeat.

Draco bore that emotion alone as he crawled into bed. He didn't know what to say to Harry. He would have to figure out something.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry blinked, staring at his hands. They were buried in the fine powder dirt of the glowing Path he was kneeling on.

He glanced around, noticing the close walls of the Dark that lined the edges of the Path.

"All right," he said. "I'm either dreaming or this is a different sort of dream."

"Surely you know the difference by now," the tri-toned voices came from behind him.

He turned, careful to keep his hands buried in the dirt and his body in the exact center of the Path. Three women stood in a row, blocking one end of the Path. As he watched, their faces and appearances changed, sometimes young, sometimes ancient. Some pale skinned and fair haired, some with ebony skin and hair the color of pitch.

It was enough to make anyone's head spin.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"We are," they said. "You've come to a strange place in time."

"A…what?"

The woman in the center tilted her head. "Surely you've figured it out by now."

Harry woke with a start, hands buried in his covers, his heart racing. He blinked up at the dark canopy. _What should I have figured out by now_?

He still hadn't figured it out by the time his alarm went off and it was time to get ready for the first class of the day.

**qpqpqpqp**

Sasha found the girl after afternoon classes had ended. The books around Hermione were familiar to the Slytherin girl.

"So, Harry came to you with his problem," Sasha folded her arms over her chest. Hermione shot her a foul glare. "Well, he could have done worse."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"I'm sure you don't, just like Harry kept insisting that there was nothing wrong to Draco, even though there clearly was."

"Don't interfere," Hermione's brows drew together. "You'll just make it worse."

"You mean the curse we're not supposed to know about?"

"He can't have told you."

"He didn't, Gryffindor. We figured it out on our own. We're intelligent like that, unlike most Houses."

"A bit late on the uptake, though."

"Well, Harry's more Slytherin qualities mask his stupidity for the most part. He should have known we would help."

"He did. That's why he didn't say anything. Speaking about it can kill Malfoy."

"If _Harry_ speaks about it," Sasha pulled out a chair across from the girl. "We were able to determine that much. We're not sure if even writing it down for us would be enough to trigger it, so Harry wouldn't even try."

Hermione watched her with wary eyes. "You've determined what curse it is?"

"No," Sasha made a face. "But we've determined some of the parameters. It's a two-part curse, linked in with Draco's memories of the curse."

Hermione straightened in her seat. "A two-part curse?"

"You've heard about them?"

"They're a select category," Hermione pushed a stack of books away, hands flashing through the accumulated piles of information.

"You've really been looking into it."

"I have a lot to make up for," she came up with a handful of tomes. "Here, these are the ones I set aside. There's more in the Restricted Section, but I had to return them. Madam Pince was rather irritated with me."

"I can take care of that."

"Good, there's the list," Hermione's papers were spread across the entire desk. A much-rumpled piece of parchment was thrust at Sasha. "Cross off the books we have."

"Of course."

"Just go." Hermione's eyes narrowed to slits. Sasha's hand itched for her wand.

_Harry had better appreciate what I'm willing to do for his skinny arse_, she stomped away towards the Restricted Section, allowing the Gryffindor to win the round for once.

**qpqpqpqp**

Severus had suspected that something was amiss with his students – namely Harry – for some time. It wasn't until a delegation of his sixth years came to see him that his worry was verified.

He found the boy studying at one of the tables in the common room. Pansy and Blaise took themselves elsewhere as he approached. They had the common room to themselves. He would have preferred talking to the boy in his office, but he did not want Harry feeling trapped.

_The child has enough of that attitude with Black_. Severus did not want to add to Harry's stress any more than necessary.

The boy's pen skittered across the page when Severus stopped at his side. Green eyes, far too dull and marked with heavy bags underneath, stared up at him.

"Sir?"

Severus paused, and then pulled out a chair near Harry to sit. There was a small distance between them, but some of the wariness in the boy's eyes had faded at Severus' choice.

"I have heard of a delicate situation that concerns you, Harry." He held up a hand to forestall the panic he saw flashing across the boy's face. "You need not deny it. Something has been verified, but you cannot speak about it. I can and you will listen."

"…Yes, sir."

"Very well." Severus settled his hands in his lap. "First of all, Harry, when one thinks one is boxed into a corner, you are."

"Huh?"

"The imagination is a limitless place that can come up with a veritable multitude of possibilities."

"…Huh?"

He gave the child a flat stare. "I believe the muggle phrase is _think outside the box_, Harry."

Harry set his quill down with nervous fingers. "You mean, about…the thing that's not wrong with…a boy in my class."

"Exactly."

"Well," Harry blinked a few times. "All right then."

"We are Slytherins, Harry." He had that odd twisting sensation back in his chest. He ignored it. "Given enough time, we can, have and will again find solutions to problems that most would despair under."

"I just…didn't want anyone to worry about…anything," Harry's bangs fell forward, hiding his face.

"That is our choice, Harry." Severus could not help the soft tone. "You would not take that freedom from us, would you?"

"Of course not!" The boy's head came up, eyes bright.

"Then you will have to accept that we _care_, Harry. And you must be willing to care for yourself just as much." He shook his head. "Hurting yourself hurts us as well."

"But…I haven't…"

"The school should offer seminars in communication," Severus frowned at the boy. "Talk to us, Harry. We cannot help if we do not know what hurts."

"I…can't," misery twisted the boy's mouth into an unhappy line. "If I talk…" He glanced towards the dormitory halls.

"Then tell me about something else."

Harry blinked at him. "But…I don't understand."

"You have put off meetings with Auror Rayne for some time."

"Ah, yeah…I…had to."

"Because of…"

"Yeah."

"He would be bound to the code of silence of your sessions."

"I'm not sure if that would count. For the, you know, thing."

"Ah, I see."

They regarded each other for a long moment.

"Is there anything else, Harry?" He studied the pale face, the haunted eyes. The boy was losing weight again. The thin traces of scars across his neck still made Severus' stomach tighten into a hard ball.

"…No. I'm fine."

"I see," he rose, wanting to reassure the boy somehow, but coming up blank. "Please, do trust us, Harry."

He was at the door when he heard the child's answer.

"Thank you, Professor. I do."

**qpqpqpqp**

The winter break was days away. Harry knew there was a flurry of activity going on in his House, and felt awful for adding to their stress. Reports from America had no sign of the girl or her parents. Pansy's cousins in the Ministry had come up empty handed. It was as if the girl and her family had never existed.

It was enough to make Harry shiver every time he thought about it.

His relations with Draco were improving. There were still cracks here and there, but some part of Harry was relieved at the fighting and the aftermath.

_He won't leave_, was the small voice that whispered in the back of his mind. _You pushed and pushed and pushed and you found the limit. He didn't leave and he didn't yell. He didn't _leave.

A part of him was ashamed at his reaction. Another part of him felt like it was relaxing for the first time in forever. Most of the rest of him wanted to curl up and sleep for a week. With Draco. It took a lot of will power to keep the flush from exploding across his face at that thought.

Harry also did not want to leave the castle for the winter holiday. Even if it would get him away from the sadistic Umbridge and her "detentions." The mood of the wizarding world was vacillating between hate for him, suspicion and those who were indignant on his behalf. The perpetrators of the London Massacre were still at large. Scrimgeour was being bombarded on all sides by the press and those who had legitimate concerns about the state of their world. And the Temple's building had been delayed. The goblins had extended the date for its opening until the solstice, which had sent the more monotheistic of their population wild with speculation about evil rites and devil worship.

Harry wanted to strangle the lot of them. The winter solstice was the rebirth of the sun, the rebirth of the world, the exit from lengthening night and the return to the land of the sun.

He wondered how much a full-page ad would cost.

"Note for you, Harry," Neville passed him on his way to his seat. Dinner was about to start and for once Harry had his appetite back.

"Thanks," he took the folded scrap from the other boy.

"Came for you at the dorms," Neville reached for the teapot as the food appeared.

"Oh, damn," Draco spoke from behind them. "Shove over, Neville."

"I got here first."

"Blaise, please. Control him."

Harry swatted at the blond as Neville squawked. Draco settled next to Harry with a strain-free smile.

Harry studied the boy's face, feeling something tight around his heart loosen. "You've figured it out, haven't you?"

Draco made a shushing motion, but from the proud faces around them, Harry could guess at the reason for their elation.

"It will take a while," Draco murmured to him. "Probably not until after the hols –"

"That long?"

"Yes," Draco's brief scowl was directed at his plate. "There are…things we need to get."

"Oh."

"But, more to the point, we have something to celebrate." Draco's hand brushed Harry's hip, causing him to blush and look away. Draco watched his reaction with delighted eyes. "Will you come to the Manor with me, Harry?"

"I…yes," he said without thinking. "I would love to."

"Harry!" Ginny's cry turned his attention to the younger girl. She was frowning at him from her seat across from him. He had not seen her arrive. "You can't!"

"…eh?"

"Father wants both of us to come home for the break."

Harry exchanged a glance with Draco. "I…don't think I can, Gin. Sirius isn't my guardian."

Her face broke out into a smile. "Yes, he is! He got the paperwork yesterday, didn't you get a letter from him?"

"…No." Harry remembered the note in his hand. He unfolded it and read the contents.

"Harry?" Draco touched his shoulder.

"I have to see the Headmaster after the meal."

He saw the few pauses around him. He knew they were remembering when other notes came, just like the one he held in his hands.

"What?" Ginny asked Pansy. "It's probably paperwork or something, right?"

"Of course," the other girl said and looked away.

"I'll come with you," Draco said.

"Thanks." Harry refolded the note and slid it into his pocket. His earlier appetite was long gone.

**qpqp**

"Ah, Mr. Potter." The Headmaster looked up from the stack of papers that were covering his desk. "And Mr. Malfoy, of course. Do have a seat."

Harry plopped down in the right hand chair that sat in front of the imposing desk. Draco folded himself into the chair next to him with more decorum.

"I have some news, Harry." The Headmaster regarded him over the rims of his glasses.

"It's about Sirius, right?"

"Did Ms. Black inform you?"

"She said Sirius got guardianship of him."

"Yes and no." Dumbledore's eyes were bright. "He has some of the power of in loco parentis, which is not a completely binding guardianship. You have been guaranteed the right to decide if you wish to terminate the contract and leave the person's control."

"Why didn't Sirius get complete guardianship of me?"

"Ah, well," Dumbledore smiled at him. "The government works in mysterious ways."

"You blocked it, sir?"

"I have, but I can remove my influence, if that is what you want."

Harry bowed his head to stare at his hands. Did he want Sirius to have full guardianship of him? Did he want his godfather to have complete control over him until his legal majority?

"…No, thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. In loco parentis is enough."

"…I see, Mr. Potter. I am sorry."

"Don't be," he rose and met the old wizard's gaze. "Was there anything else?"

"You will be joining Ms. Black at the family manor over the holiday."

"I see." He knew Draco was angry, tense and silent at his side. "Thank you, sir."

"I am sorry, Harry." Dumbledore said again. "I had hoped things would be different."

"They are what we have made them to be," Harry shrugged. "Your choices and mine haven't made the situation, though I'm sure they helped. You cannot take the blame for all of it."

"The same goes for you, Harry."

He let out a quiet laugh. "I'll try to remember that, sir." He glanced at Draco, offering up a hesitant smile. "I've got people who remind me of that, now."

Draco's answering smile lit the room.

**qpqpqpqp**

Winter break would officially start Friday evening when the Hogwarts Express pulled out from the station with its students in tow.

It was Friday afternoon when Harry got the note to attend to a matter with Professor Umbridge, immediately.

His Housemates had argued against his going, but he couldn't refuse. He _couldn't_ and he knew they knew why. Blaise and Neville were the ones to escort him to the dreaded classroom – they'd long since decided that Umbridge getting any sight of Harry with Draco during these meetings was a bad, bad idea.

Umbridge was waiting for him when he entered the room. Her scowl created lines in the heavy makeup she slathered across her face.

"Mr. Potter," she began without preamble. "I am most disappointed in you."

He tripped and almost fell, catching himself on the back of a chair before he could face plant into the flagstone floor.

"I…what did I do?"

"You know the penalty of tardiness."

"I…couldn't leave right away."

"Why, Mr. Potter, were your _friends_ suspicious?"

He flinched away from the vile glint in her eyes. "No, ma'am. They just wanted to know what was wrong."

"Your detention, of _course_, Mr. Potter. _That _is what is wrong. Did you tell them that?"

"No, ma'am."

"Perhaps you will learn yet," she pursed her lips. "I am not satisfied that you have learned your lesson, Mr. Potter."

"But!"

"Our little meetings will continue after Christmas," the shine in her eyes dared him to protest.

"But – you said –!"

"Is that insubordination I hear, Mr. Potter? What _would_ the Malfoy family, as sinful as it is, do without its only son?"

Harry slumped, knowing she had the upper hand. "Please don't hurt him."

"You know what you must do then, Mr. Potter."

"…Yes, ma'am."

"I'm so glad we understand each other, Mr. Potter," the simper was disturbing to see on a woman of her age. And with the amount of rage she carried in her eyes. "Do have an enjoyable Christmas, Mr. Potter. Make sure you remember all that we have…talked about."

"…Yes, ma'am."

"You may leave."

"Yes, ma'am."

He couldn't tell Blaise or Neville why he was shaking the entire way back to the dorms. He had a horrible feeling growing in his gut.

It was going to be one _hell_ of a winter holiday.

End Chapter Thirty-Six


	37. Chapter 37: Shopping

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Shopping

The furious excitement bubbled along the length of the Hogwarts Express, infecting every compartment with the same restlessness.

"Is it always like this?" Harry asked Draco as they settled into their compartment.

"Is what always like this?"

"The train. The – the –," Harry shrugged.

"Oh, that. Yes, it is."

"Wow."

"That's right, you've never…"

"No."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I was happy to stay at the castle. Holidays with the Dursleys were not very fun."

Harry knew he'd soured the mood a bit by the silence coming from the other boy. "Tell me what you're going to do," he said, hoping to rescue the former good mood that they'd entered the train with.

"What?"

"For Yule," Harry got the last of his things settled and turned. "Are you going to celebrate with others or are you staying home?"

"Ah, that." Draco sat next to Harry as the train whistle shrieked through the air. "We'll have a private ceremony, probably and then we'll go to the Temple for its opening."

"A private ceremony? You didn't have one last year."

"We did."

"You…did?" He turned to look at Draco. "But, when?"

"Midnight of Yule. We followed the rising constellations. I believe you were all asleep."

"But…"

"It's a family thing," Draco tangled their hands together. "We have to go through a messy ritual when we're legal to do so and then you'll be able to join us."

"You want me to?"

"Of course!"

"…What kind of messy ritual?"

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Well, there's tree sap involved."

"…Tree sap?"

**qpqp**

The train coasted into King's Cross Station with billowing clouds of humid steam. Draco and Harry had said their goodbyes early, with Harry anxious that Sirius not catch sight of the blond or his family. Harry would rather not have a row between Lucius Malfoy and his godfather on the train platform and Draco agreed with him.

Beside him, Ginny was all but vibrating from excitement. She had her cane clenched with both hands, the distinctive ornamental head peeking out from between her fingers. Another reminder of the Malfoys, but Harry hoped Sirius would let it slide. A nasty storm had settled over the school before they had left, leaving the air achingly cold with a touch of moisture. Ginny's knee hadn't had a chance against that type of weather change.

"We're here, we're here, we're here…" She was sort of hopping on one leg, more of a bounce, really, the staccato tap of her cane's tip sharp at their feet.

"It'll be fine, Ginny," he said, trying to relax the tense line of her shoulders.

"I hope so," she muttered. Then the doors were opened and they were free to flood from the train.

Not for the first time, Harry cursed the fact that neither James or Lily Potter had been very tall. He jumped a few times, trying to spot Remus or Sirius in the crowd.

"Do you see them?" Ginny had taken his arm when people began to swarm all over the platform.

"No – oof," Harry staggered as someone crashed into him from behind. "Sorry, there," he said out of reflex. The glance, double take and glare made the good mood he'd been trying to hang onto wither a little more.

He could see Draco through a gap in the press. There was space around the gathered pure blood families. He saw Lucius clasp a hand to Draco's shoulder and draw the boy to his side. Something sharp went through Harry's chest at the sight. He turned away before he could see any more.

Someone grabbed Ginny from behind, lifting her away from her hold on Harry's arm. He whirled, wand falling into his palm with a well-practiced twist.

"Ginny, my girl!" Sirius spun her around and lifted her into the air. Ginny let out a shriek of laughter and threw her arms around Sirius' neck, causing those near the pair to duck the flailing cane.

_Please let this holiday be calm_, Harry sent up as a prayer. He didn't have time to listen for an answer, if there was any. Sirius had turned his way with a manic grin plastered across his face.

It was going to be a long holiday. He tried not to sigh.

**qpqpqpqp**

Lucius' warm clasp on Draco's shoulder made him want to puff out his chest with pride.

"Son," was all his father had said, but that was Lucius' way. Draco knew his father's moods, knew by the gray tint to the older wizard's eyes that his father was up to his neck in worries, but had made the time to be there when Draco stepped off the train.

In his family, it was the little things that communicated their feelings more than words ever did.

He thought he saw Harry in the shifting crowd, but his glimpse was there and gone, too fast for him to react. Lucius gave Draco's shoulder a squeeze and turned away, nodding to the other pure blood families that had gathered around them.

Draco was not blind to the show of support. He did, however, fear that most of the other families on the platform had no idea what was going on.

A shout from the crowd drew stares. Draco saw Black lift Ginny up in a wild swing. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the antics.

"Come along, Draco," Lucius' tone had acquired a bit of a bite. "I have no wish for Black's attention to fall on to us."

"I doubt he would notice," he fell into step with the older man. "He has a particularly good set of blinders on his eyes."

"With a convenient Slytherin-shaped hole," Lucius' cane struck the concrete with more force than necessary.

"When will Severus be joining us?" Draco asked, adjusting his cuffs with careful fingers.

Lucius let out a long breath. "Tomorrow. He wants to finish up the last of the grading before he joins us. He has never been one to leave things for the last minute."

"A good habit to have," Draco agreed.

"Indeed."

They came to the Apparition Point. Lucius' hand returned to Draco's shoulder. He was looking forward to his seventeenth birthday. The ability to Apparate – legally, that was – was something he was eager to learn. His father and Severus had made sure he knew the basics – just in case – but had warned him against on-the-side practice. A few stories about some particularly embarrassing accidents had cured Draco of any urge to try it out on his own.

They appeared outside the gates of the Manor. To Draco's surprise, snow was already thick on the ground, piled high in dirty drifts against the long gray stone walls that lined the property.

"This is…odd," he remarked to his father as they slogged their way up the path.

"We have had problems getting the carriage out," Lucius flicked a spell at the snow ahead of them, causing it to melt. The resulting mud and puddles ringed the hems of Draco's pants with muck.

"It's good to be home," he said with a sigh at the damage. _Pansy would have to be right about it_, Draco mourned. _I should have worn boots_.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Everyone in! Everyone in!"

The headache had settled somewhere behind Harry's eyes. Every pulse made his teeth ache. Ginny and Sirius had kept up their chatter the entire way home. Harry had been with Remus for the sideways apparition. Sirius had swung Ginny up into his arms – much to her furious blushing and protests to the fact that she _could_ walk, thank you very much.

They were having a bit of a sun break when they arrived at Black Manor. Harry had shivered at the heavy black band of clouds that were gathered to the west.

"Harry?"

He realized he was standing at the door, half in, half out of the frame. "Sorry," he said and stepped through. The ominous feeling slid from his shoulders as the door closed behind him.

"Well, well," Sirius hugged Ginny to his side. "We're all home, together. Bill should be here in the next few days."

"Really?" Ginny gripped the edges of Sirius' formal robe. "He's coming home? The goblins let him have the time off?"

"They surely did, Ginny me gal. He's got a few things to wrap up and then he'll be here. He wants to celebrate Yule with us." He tweaked her nose.

"This is amazing!" She threw her arms around the man's waist and squeezed. Sirius looked as though he had won the lottery.

"Let's get your things to your rooms," Remus put his hand on Harry's shoulder. He hadn't been expecting the touch, so he jumped a bit. The werewolf squeezed Harry's shoulder and let his hand fall away.

"Right, right!" Sirius kept giving Harry strange looks he couldn't decipher. Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to throw his arms around the man like Ginny or what. "Dinner should be sometime soon. We got a few new house elves and they are fantastic cooks, let me just say…"

"He means they can do more than boil water, which is the extent of Sirius' ability," Remus laughed.

"Moony!"

Harry moved past them, headed for the stairs. Ginny continued to chatter at Sirius, keeping the man's attention away from Harry.

The room was still the same eye-watering loud riot of color as when he had left it. He rubbed at his eyes, cast a glance at the door and then decided, _why not_? A few flicks of his wand stripped the walls of their dizzying Quidditch posters. They were rolled and stacked on the top shelf of the closet. The bedspread was turned so that the lining showed. A dark blue hue took over the walls, though Harry wasn't sure what to do about the bare windows.

There was a pop from behind him. "Master Harry's trunk, sir!"

He turned to see a house elf hauling his trunk to the foot of the bed. The creature danced in place, pulling at its ears.

"So nice to meet you, Master Harry, sir! I is Tangle. Tangle is most glad to meet the Master Harry! Can Tangle do anything for Master Harry?"

He considered it. "Could you find some drapes for my windows?"

"Of course, Master Harry! Right away, Master Harry!" With a brilliant smile – that showed a maw of cracked, yellowing teeth – Tangle disappeared with a sharp snap of its fingers.

"Well, that's one problem down," he informed the silent room. "Let's hope they're all as easy as that."

**qpqpqpqp**

Hermione escaped the horde of relatives with a few smiles and easy excuses. Her father and uncle had taken her trunk upstairs when they had arrived. Someone in the family had decided that her parent's house would be the ideal place for the annual familial gathering of their extended blood relatives. Their guest rooms were full (not that they had many, just two) and the sofas were claimed by a few junior members who didn't mind stiff backs come morning.

It was the perfect recipe to drive her _mad_.

She found the letters after a brief search. She would have to work fast to get everything she needed done. She would not have the freedom she'd had during the summer. And, she suspected with a frown, the privacy of her room would be invaded by visiting cousins before the holiday was over.

She slipped the letters into her pocket, knowing she would be able to escape the careful eye of her family between dessert and the traditional night cap the adults indulged in. The letters were already post marked and there was a mail bin at the end of her street.

She didn't have any time to waste.

**qpqpqpqp**

There was something sticking to his boot.

Gwyn ap Nudd paused to examine the object. He plucked it from the sole of his boot and held it up.

It was a feather. The glossy blue-black shine reflected in the wavering witch light he had created to bob just over his shoulder. The glow did little to illuminate the Dark – but in the small circle surrounding him, he began to notice a few things.

Another feather lay off to his left. He kept one hand on his sword as he moved to pick it up. That was when he noticed the others. They were scattered along the gray dust-like dirt that he traveled on. Some were half buried, others were tumbled across each other like small x's to mark the spot.

The sense of unease in Gwyn ap Nudd's mind grew larger.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Everyone set?"

Harry hung back from Sirius, keeping a little of Remus' bulk between them.

"Yes! Yes!" Ginny had a hold of Bill's hand and a radiant smile on her face.

Harry wasn't sure if the young witch was actively trying to be a buffer between him and Sirius, but either way, he could have kissed her for it. He wrinkled his nose. _Maybe not _kissed_ her, that would be a bit too incestuous right there. Ew. That was _not_ an image I needed in my mind_.

Bill had arrived earlier than expected, which meant Harry had just one day of dodging his godfather whenever he evaded Ginny's grasp. Bill's arrival was a relief – Sirius was getting adept at finding things for Ginny to explore on her own.

It was two days to Yule. They would be celebrating in the old ways, Sirius had proclaimed – which also meant that they were two days of present shopping shorter.

"Now, a pouch for you, Gin, and a pouch for Bill and one for Harry!" Sirius' smile turned a bit strained as he held the gathered gallons for Harry to take.

"Oh, but I…"

"Mate, if I get one, you get one," Bill laughed and pushed Harry forward. He took the pouch from Sirius with a strained smile. His heart stuttered when a warm hand ruffled his hair.

"Now, let's to shopping!" Sirius rubbed his hands together with manic glee.

**qpqp**

Diagon Alley was alive with people. The piney scent of boughs permeated the air; spiced cider was sold at almost every street corner. Harry was grateful for his scarf, it was pulled up so far it hid most of his face. The hat Bill had clapped over his head hid most of his messy black hair.

He was anonymous and he _loved_ it.

Even that didn't help him with shopping, though. He had no idea what to get everyone and didn't have Pansy on hand to ask if he really did need to buy gifts for _everyone_ or if those he considered close friends was enough.

He found funny knickknacks for Remus and Sirius. As a gag gift, he found a few tubes of specially made sunscreen for wizards. Ginny was a harder buy; he found some pretty ear rings in a small shop tucked away around the corner of the many smaller streets that branched off Diagon Alley. At his Slytherin Housemates, he drew a bit of a blank.

For Pansy and Millicent, he found matching charm bracelets. Blaise got a silly gift; a wizard's version of an idiot's guide to gardening. Blaise, of them all, had the worst grades in Herbology – at least when Neville wasn't helping him get by.

Neville was a little more difficult – Harry wanted to get him something garden related, but Harry had no idea what texts the other boy already had. He ended up getting Neville a home herb-growing kit, complete with instructions on how to keep the plants lit with sunlight indoors. It would be nice for Neville to have plants in his room, Harry decided.

For Sasha, he found a monogrammed never-run-dry quill. Then he was left with the difficult decisions.

For Lucius Malfoy, he found a pair of what he thought were pleasant cuff links. As for Professor Snape, Harry paused for a moment outside an animal shop. There wasn't anything he could think of to give the man. In the end, he found a stark black and white chess set, whose characters did not shout filthy words at each other. He'd noticed a lack of a board in the man's office and wondered why. _Snape seems like the type to play chess_, he thought with a sigh. _I just hope he likes it_. _I can't think of anything else_.

As for Draco…well. Harry knew what he wanted to give Draco and that would have to wait until they were together again at school. Just thinking about it made the heat rise to his cheeks.

As Harry wrapped up the last of the gifts he was going to get, he turned and bumped into a familiar face.

"Sasha?"

The girl peered at him, squinting at the strip of exposed skin on Harry's face. "Who is – is that…"

"Shh," he caught her arm and hustled her to a quiet corner of the curio shop. There were people bustling in and through the aisles, creating enough noise for them to talk without being overheard.

"Harry?"

He pulled down the scarf and smiled. "Hi," he said.

She thumped him on the shoulder. "What are you doing out here alone?"

"It's fine," he inched away, rubbing at the sore spot she had left behind. "No one can tell who I am."

"That defense has so many holes in it I'm not even going to respond to that," she shook her head, but ended up smiling. "You like being anonymous, don't you?"

"Oh, yes," he breathed. It had been so nice, not being followed by the stares and the whispers.

"Is any of that for me?" She hooked a finger into one of the bags. He batted her hand away with a laugh.

"You keep out. You'll find out when we get back to school."

She rolled her eyes at him. "So mean."

"Oh, I am not."

"Sasha?"

They turned at the sound of her name. "It was good to see you out, even if it's a stupid idea," she surprised him with a hug. "Go home and don't get caught."

"I won't get caught," he waved at her back. The unexpected encounter left him buoyed, with a warmth in his chest that he hadn't had since he left school.

With a light heart, he exited the shop with a bounce in his step.

End Chapter Thirty-Seven


	38. Chapter 38: Yule

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Yule

"Harry! We're going riding! Come along!"

Harry looked up from his homework, eyeing his closed door. Sirius had thrown a fit when he had seen the changes Harry had made to his room at the start of the holiday. Remus had been the one to talk sense into the animagus. The werewolf, like Ginny, was running a lot of interference between Harry and his godfather.

A rattle of knocks and the door popped open. Sirius stuck his head inside. "Come on, kiddo. Let's get fitted up."

"In this weather?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Sirius' brows drew together. "It's just a little snow, Harry. It won't kill you. I thought…"

"I meant the horses," Harry swallowed down an irritated sigh.

"The – huh?"

"The horses can go out in this?"

"Sure they can! It's not even coming down, really. Just a few flakes here and there."

"And the drifts?"

"We've got cleared paths," Sirius stood just inside the room. "Come on, Harry. It'll be fun!"

Harry glanced down at his homework. "Sure, just let me get changed."

Sirius let out a whoop and charged. Harry had enough time to cap his inkwell before being bodily picked up from his desk and spun around.

"Kiddo, kiddo, kiddo!" Sirius dumped them on the bed, breathless and dizzy. "I'll go get the others. Hurry down!" He tore off, galloping down the stairs in a clatter of excited shouts.

Harry struggled up to an elbow and pushed his bangs out of his face. "Where does he get the energy for that?"

**qpqp**

Dressed, hooded, wrapped with scarves and a change into the correct set of boots later, Harry found himself trailing after the others to the stables.

The snowfall had tapered off, leaving slate gray skies over white fields. A small wind did its best to cut through the gaps in his clothing. He tugged his gloves up and bent his head against a gust. The stable doors were open and beckoned warmth.

Inside, he stamped off a rime of snow from his boots on the mat near the door. He heard Ginny's squeal and looked up in time to see her throw her arms around a horse on the left hand row, a beautiful chestnut with a bright red bow tied around its neck.

"Oh, Sirius! Thank you!" She cooed at the horse, which bobbed its head and nuzzled her back.

"They're all already yours," Sirius rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "But I thought, you know…"

"I love it! I love her! Oh, thank you!" She flung herself in his arms with a breathless laugh. Remus beamed at both of them. Bill stood close by, leaning against a stall post, watching the festivities and getting his neck nuzzled by the curious owner of said stall.

It was quite the scene.

Harry moved forward as father and daughter broke apart, all smiles and bright eyes.

Harry had a feeling it was going to be a long afternoon.

**qpqpqpqp**

Bill checked his pockets. Wand, check. Wallet, check. Yule offering, check. The small figurine was something he had been awarded by his employers for all his hard work. It was valuable and ancient, a good offering for their first family celebration.

He caught sight of Harry standing framed in the entrance to the den. The younger boy had his head turned away, the glow of the fireplace outlining his profile. Bill pursed his lips and swallowed a sigh. He wasn't blind to what was going on. He knew there was something…off, with Harry, something he could not name, could not see, but knew was there.

_Or are we simply seeing the real Harry_? His mind offered. He scrubbed a hand over his hair and turned away. Harry would not be able to go with them to the family ceremony. Sirius had made a stink about it that morning – as Bill could understand it, it had something to do with the Headmaster meddling in Sirius' adoption and guardianship papers.

Harry, Bill had noted, had not said a word during the entire tirade.

It was time to go, though, and Bill couldn't help but feel off-kilter. It was Yule and they were all supposed to be full of joy and familial warmth.

_Must be my dreams_, he shook his head and followed Remus out the door. The two older wizards had had their own joining ceremony when Remus had taken Sirius away to Capri. Bill was a little irked at the pair for their silence on the matter, but it was their lives, their choices, he supposed.

Still, he would have liked to have been part of the ceremony, the idiots.

His dreams _were_ bothering him, though. They were clearer at the Black Manor than they had been in Egypt. There was something calling him. Something bright and breathless and –

"Bill?"

He looked up at Remus. "Coming, sorry." He hurried after his family, slogging through the mushy path Sirius' spell had cut through the snow. He needed to focus on the ceremony, after all.

They were just dreams, anyway. They didn't mean anything.

**qpqpqpqp**

The Malfoy family temple was not inside the Manor. Built into the side of a hill, with the door facing east, the ancient dirt floors were packed down by the countless numbers of Malfoys who had walked the long aisle to the central room for centuries.

The sun had set. The torches at the temple door had been lit by the embers of the Yule log. As they walked down the aisle, Draco and his father lit each of the torches along the way with the burning tapers held in their hands.

At the central room, they knelt together at the hearth that took up the middle of the room. The piled logs had been sprinkled with the traditional incense Severus made for them every year. The logs caught the moment Draco and Lucius laid their tapers on the pile.

The flames that leapt up burned green and silver.

The images the fire threw onto the walls had little to do with the objects in the room. Shadows of ghosts moved in time to their own ceremonies, lost to the ancient past of the Malfoy line. Here, in this place, Draco knew his family had achieved the one thing Voldemort had lusted after the most: the image of immortality, a place where death was cheated, even if just by an inch.

It was a secret the Malfoy family had never given to anyone who wasn't family. If Draco had to reason a guess, joining the Malfoy line, even through forced marriage, was something that had crossed the Dark Lord's mind once or twice.

And it was probably one of the main reasons why his father had left the madman's side.

Once the hearth was lit, they turned to the western wall. The faded relics were long worn to weather and age, leaving only the vague shape of a woman holding a child in her arms.

It was the longest night of the year. It was the birth of the god, the return of the sun. Come sunrise, the light would peek out over the horizon and flood the temple entrance with light, bathing them and the statue with the first light of day.

Draco had always loved Yule. His mother had rarely celebrated it with them, leaving Draco to learn the rites in her stead. His father had walked him through it since he was a toddler, letting Draco sleep in his lap until dawn so Draco could see the return of the sun together with his father.

By now, he was old enough to stay awake the whole night. They had a busy evening in front of them and Draco had made sure to sleep as long as he could throughout the day. They would celebrate at home, visit the Temple to All Gods and return in time for dawn. It was enough to make any wizard tired.

They knelt and laid their offering on the altar. The quill and paper had been his only idea of how to convey his winter wish.

_Please_, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. _On this day, of all days, I ask for wisdom. I ask for a way to see and the patience to work out what needs be done. _ He drew in a shuddering breath. _So I ask, Mother Goddess and new-born God, for your help, for your wisdom, to help me guide my feet on this path that I have taken_. He touched his heart, lips and eyes with his fingertips. He stood, without looking at the altar, turning to go. That too was tradition. The gods would either fulfill the requests or they would not, but one was not allowed to stare at the offerings until they were accepted or rejected. In the Malfoy family, it just was not done.

As they left the temple, slipping out into the inky dark, neither of them saw Draco's quill and parchment glow and then fade away with a sigh of dust.

**qpqpqpqp**

Blaise fussed with Neville's collar. "You're going to catch a cold."

"No, I won't."

"It's freezing out here."

"It's fine, Blaise."

"You could get pneumonia."

"Blaise," Neville caught Blaise's hand. "I'm from Lancaster. This isn't cold. It's pleasant. We don't get pneumonia. It's just a cough. So stop fretting already."

"Oh, Merlin," Blaise blinked. "You're one of _them_."

"One of what, exactly, Blaise Zabini?" Neville planted his hands on his hips and glowered at him.

"…a ridiculously healthy and fit set of people from northwestern Britain?"

"I thought so."

"Blaise! Neville!" Pansy bounded up to them. "I had hoped to catch you here!"

There was quite a crowd gathering in Diagon Alley. Many pure blood families had gathered, some large and many more minor branch houses, along with a host of what Blaise thought were muggleborns. Who were not a part of the silent protestors across the way, all members of the church of the one god, kneeling in the dirty snow of the gutters, praying.

Blaise had always thought they were a barmy lot. Now he had proof.

"Have you seen Draco?" Pansy linked her arms through theirs.

"He came with his father and Professor Snape. They're up at the entrance," Blaise said.

"Doing what?"

"Arguing, I think."

"Oh," her nose wrinkled. "That's normal, then."

That startled a laugh out of Neville.

"And you," Pansy turned to the ex-Gryffindor. "We have a lot to talk about."

Neville blinked down at her. "We…do?"

"Oh, yes," she said. Blaise knew that smile. Pansy's teeth showing never meant anything good for her target's pocketbook.

"W-what?" Neville shot Blaise a worried glance. He could do nothing but shrug back.

"We have a wedding to plan!" Her giggle carried through the crowd.

"E-eh?"

"Well, we have _years_ yet, but still, _your_ wedding will be my debut into the designer society! I have to get it right."

"E-eh!"

Blaise let Pansy corner Neville with chatter about colors and dates – he wasn't worried. As long as Neville showed up, Blaise was willing to wear a pink robe and have curlers in his hair for all he cared. Neville was the one Pansy was going to have to battle over the details, not him.

Blaise watched the crowd around them. Most of the muggleborn had worn robes for the occasion, but some had not. The few dressed in muggle clothing stood out against the crowd. One couple and their two children caught his eye. The older of the children was chattering up at his father about the temple and if they could get ice cream afterwards. Blaise watched as the mother bent down to help the youngest with his scarf. Her necklace slipped out from her jacket, the golden cross catching the light with a wink. Blaise blinked and the woman stood straight, tucked her necklace back into her shirt with nervous fingers and a frown at the protestors. She caught Blaise staring and froze for a moment, before standing straight and inching her chin into the air.

Blaise grinned at her and turned away as she gaped at him.

_Not all of them are barmy_, he amended as he peered at the kneeling protestors. _Just the stupid ones it seems_.

**qpqp**

At fifteen to midnight, the goblins opened the alley.

Blaise linked his hand with Neville's and joined the horde of people that began to jam the narrow passage. Shopkeepers had their lights on, the twinkling brilliance shining through the thick glass of the windows to cast a golden glow onto the dark, wet cobblestone street.

It wasn't a long alley by any standards. If he had to guess, there were less than fifty new stores that had opened their doors for business that night. The tall buildings held another five stories of flats and town homes for those central to Diagon Alley and the Ministry.

Blaise had to admit – the goblins had gotten a hell of a deal from Scrimgeour.

At the end of the alley, the space opened up. Above them the stars winked, the sky clearing for once in a month full of storms.

The Temple to All Gods was a circular building. It rose up before them, the white marble gleaming in the lamplight. Flecks of gold ran through the stone, causing the façade to flash with golden lightning. There was an elaborate ward worked into the freeze over the entrance – Blaise could make out some of the symbols, but not all.

Inside, the walls were lined with niches. Torches burned from sockets set into the walls. Incense burned on the altars. Priests and priestesses were already there in front of each altar, tending the areas. The giant dome rose up over them, the brilliant blues and greens mixing with reds and yellows, a mosaic of design Blaise had never seen before in his life.

"It's Goblin," Pansy murmured as she slid away from them. "It's their altar to their gods," she seemed to be rooted in place, staring up at the sight.

In the center of the ceiling was on open hole, lined with mirrors. Blaise could see the stars and the edge of the moon from where he stood.

It was breathtaking.

He let Neville lead the way. Blaise was not surprised to end up in front of the icon to the gods of the harvest and of agriculture. Smaller icons lined the altars, images and sometimes just names of all the gods and goddesses that filled that particular niche. They had the area to themselves for the moment. Most had gone to the major deities of peace and good fortune first. Draco, Blaise noted, had not and had ended up almost alone in front of the niche for the gods of intellect and learning.

_How odd_, he thought, tightening his hold on Neville's hand. He turned back to see Neville draw something from his large coat pocket. Neville freed his hand from Blaise's hold and stepped forward under the watchful eyes of the priestess. Blaise blinked at her, studying the lock of red hair that had slipped free from her head covering. She seemed familiar for some reason.

Neville seemed to think so as well, since he stopped short and turned to the woman with wide eyes. "Y-you!"

Bright eyes twinkled at them. The woman raised a finger to her lips and shushed them with a wink.

"I – I," Neville glanced at Blaise. He shrugged. "I – this is…for you." Neville held out the small pot, the miniature roses blooming from some arcane spell Neville alone probably knew.

Then it hit him what Neville had just said. "You," he started forward.

The woman's – goddess' he amended – smile grew. She reached out and touched Neville's cheek with her fingers and then took the plant, cooing over the delicate shade of red of the petals. She placed the pot onto the altar, arranging it just so. She glanced over her shoulder at them and winked again, before vanishing with a whisper of incense and wind.

"M-Merlin," Neville groped for Blaise's hand. "The temple really does work!"

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry let the last of the clock's chimes die away with a sigh. He was alone in the house, since Sirius and the others were still busy in the family temple.

He knelt on his window seat and pried open one of the windows. The clear night sky cooled the area to a biting cold. Harry ignored the sting and turned to the tray at his side.

He lit the cone of incense and let it on the windowsill. He looked around, shrugged and rang the small hand bell the house elves had found for him. He sprinkled salt around him with careful flicks of his finger. His preparations done, he folded his hands in his lap, bowed his head and closed his eyes.

"A simple ritual," someone said from behind him.

Harry turned, careful to stay in the circle of salt. A young man stared back at him, a shock of red hair on his head. He leaned against one of the posts of Harry's bed, his arms folded across his chest.

"I have no temple to celebrate in," Harry answered.

The young man's smile grew. "True," he pushed off the post and paced forward. Closer, Harry could tell that the young man wasn't so much a young man as much as a man without discernable age. The red hair was shot through with golden blond. The dark eyes reflected no fire Harry could see.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

The man's smile turned smug. "I am someone close yet very far away."

"Huh?"

The man laughed, stopping just short of Harry's circle. "You are interesting, Dreamer," the man reached out, but seemed to be stopped by an invisible wall.

Harry's palms began to sweat. _The Manor's wards were supposed to block_…

"It's the longest night," the man said, ducking his head to catch Harry's gaze. "All wards are weaker now."

"How did you…"

"You're like an open book, boy."

"Oh."

The man dropped his hand to his side. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

"I – I think I have."

"You think so," the man said. "Wizards. So picky, picky, picky with their words," He wrinkled his nose. "Can I tell you something, picky little wizard Dreamer?"

"What?"

"Not all gods who are painted as evil by the brush of those considered good are, necessarily, evil," the man – the god's – mouth twisted into a wry smile. "You cannot have light without dark. Or rather, good without chaos." He tapped his chest and leaned forward. "We all serve a purpose, one way or the other. Most of us," he tilted his head to one side. "But it is the gods that are born from human emotion that should be feared. Remember that," the god reached out again, this time his hand moving through the thin circle of protection with ease. He cupped Harry's cheek and studied his face. "You remind me of Fenrir when he was still young and human," Loki murmured.

Downstairs a door opened and Ginny's laughter broke the silence. Harry blinked and the god was gone, leaving him chilled and alone, with a pile of ashes where his incense had been.

**qpqp**

That night, Harry dreamed of an open field where a giantess lounged on a huge picnic blanket and where a wolf pup chased after a young girl's heels. The image was there and gone, a quick portrait of something that hit him in the gut so hard his breath rushed form his lungs.

Then the dream changed, the brilliant sunshine gone, replaced with the murky fog of the endless Dark. He was running, grasping for twisted ribbons that sliced open his palms every time he closed a fist over them. The world lurched every time he pulled himself forward by the ribbons, making the screams that came from his throat louder each time.

But even his screams could not counter the clear call of a horn that echoed in his ears.

End Chapter Thirty-Eight


	39. Chapter 39: Return to Hogwarts

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Return to Hogwarts

King's Cross Station was awash with people. Harry struggled to keep up with Sirius and the others – and stay as inconspicuous as possible while he was at it.

The gift giving was a highlight of his holiday. He had been sure to be on his best behavior for Sirius – a thought that rather depressed him – the entire time. Harry hadn't wanted to ruin the experience for Ginny. He had taken too much from her already.

The presents had all been light and fun. The adults had enjoyed the funny knickknacks Harry had picked up on a whim – Bill had threatened to throw his sunscreen at Harry's head, causing much laughter. Ginny had worn her earrings the entire day.

As for his presents – a few jumpers, a book from Remus and a figurine from Bill. Ginny had presented Harry with a wizard's watch. It was a lighthearted exchange and for once during the holidays Harry had felt truly happy.

Harry pulled up short to avoid flattening a gaggle of first years as they stampeded past him.

"Harry? Where are you?"

"Here, Ginny." He struggled past a knot of glaring Gryffindors. Sirius had a proud, if watery, expression on his face. "Off you go, then," he hugged Ginny so hard she squeaked. "Remember to write!"

"Yes, Father!" Ginny pulled away to give Remus a hug, leaving Sirius and Harry to stare at each other.

"You…be good, okay, kiddo?" Sirius' smile wobbled. "I knew you'd pull out of it, no matter what Healer Fondorn said."

Harry felt a muscle flex in his jaw. "Yeah," he said, looking down and away. "I'm fine, Sirius. Really."

The unexpected feel of arms going around his shoulders made Harry stiff with tension. Sirius muttered something intelligible into his hair and then pulled away, leaving Harry to blink at the older man.

"Off you go!" Sirius' cheerful grin was back, plastered across his face. Remus stepped forward to give Harry a careful hug – they had already said their farewells to Bill the day before when he had to return to work.

The whistle on the train blew, cutting through Harry's thoughts. A flurry of activity rose around them. Parents and children said their last goodbyes. Porters were checking the hatches on the doors. Trunks were being floated into the last compartments.

"Harry?"

He blinked and started after Ginny, swinging up into the stairwell as the whistle blew again and the brakes were released with a hiss of steam. He stood and waved with Ginny until Sirius and Remus were obscured on the platform.

As Harry climbed the stairs onto the train proper, he realized the weight on his chest had disappeared. He was going home.

**qpqpqpqp**

They found the Slytherin compartment with ease. Harry poked his head in through the door, eyed Sasha's ready wand and beamed a smile at those gathered. "Hello," he said.

"Harry!" A blond flash grabbed his jumper and dragged him forward. They fell onto the seat together, Harry sprawled out on top of Draco. The blond cupped Harry's face with two chilly hands and kissed him in front of everyone.

Harry thought there might have been a wolf whistle somewhere in the background noise, but he wasn't sure. He fisted his hands in Draco's dress robes and held on tight.

"Dear Merlin, my eyes!" Sasha sounded half-strangled with laughter. "Boy, _boys_ – Draco, Harry, unless you want your Head of House to critique your technique…"

Draco pulled them to rights as Professor Snape opened the compartment door. Harry hadn't been aware that it had shut. Ginny had her face buried behind her hands. Harry felt flush, knew he was probably beet red, but most of him didn't give a damn.

"Well, happy Yule," he told Draco as the others turned to greet their Head of House. "I didn't know what to give you either."

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said before Draco could answer. "I must say, you are quite red. Are you well?"

Harry blinked a half dozen times and managed one – tiny – glance at the man's face. "Fine, sir. Thank you."

"Very well. Ms. Black. Draco," Snape paused in the door for a moment before sliding it shut with a soft click.

The room burst into giggles.

_Yes,_ Harry thought as he was shifted more comfortably against Draco's side. _I'm going home_.

**qpqpqpqp**

Gwyn ap Nudd had a pocket full of feathers. Some had bits of flesh still attached. All of them were an eerie, familiar blue-black sheen.

There were no tracks. The feathers seemed to have been blown across the Dark at random. He searched for them in the shifting sands under his feet, careful to try and not damaged them, however useless the attempt could be at that point.

He had to find her. Something was _wrong_.

At times he thought he heard sobbing in the Dark. Of late – and he had no idea how much time was slipping through his fingers – the Dark had grown cold. The sand had turned to fine powder, more like dust than earth.

The sobbing was coming louder. He had been tracking it for what seemed like hours. It sounded young, too young to be lost and alone in the Dark.

Without warning, his boots stepped from dust to flagstone, catching him short. He stared down at his boots, watching as the Dark peeled away, exposing a ragged thought of a room, walls and ceiling too hazy to make out, and a lone dais seat at the far end. The sobbing was coming from the bundle of rags on the stone chair.

Gwyn ap Nudd let out a quiet breath. Not all things that cry are prey, he reminded himself. His footsteps echoed in the vast hall, causing the creature on the dais seat to jerk their head up with a startled gasp.

He froze, feet glued to the floor. Pale skin, ringed with shadows under the eyes. Dark hair tumbled across a narrow shoulder. The girl's cheeks were wet; she wiped the backs of her hands across her face and straightened in her chair, grasping at the armrests.

"W-Who goes there?" Her voice was clear and high, a touch hoarse from crying.

"I am the Lord of Annwn," he said. "Who are you?"

"I am Hel," the girl's chin lifted. "I did not give you leave to enter my realm. Go away!"

"Hel," he tasted the name in his mouth and knew it to be true.

"I _said_, go away!"

"You are the mistress of Niflheim," he took a measured step forward, watching the panic chase itself across her face.

"I am mistress here. What I say is law and I _say_ go away!" Her small hand smacked down on the flat stone armrest.

He stopped his advance, watching as her eyes darted back and forth. They were alone. The Dark was breaking away chunks of the hall with each passing second.

"I will not harm you," he said.

The laugh that came from her throat was dry and bitter. "You are one of the shining ones, aren't you? Father says Bifrost used to stretch to the small islands to the south. He told me stories of your kind," her lip curled.

"You recognize me?"

"No. You're pretty, though, just like he said you all were. Even the –," her jaw snapped shut with an audible click. "I _said_, go away!"

The feathers in the pouch at his hip felt like a stone. But… "I have been on a long journey," he stepped to the side, where the last of a few simple chairs stayed intact around a strange well of black liquid.

"What are you – no, you can't!" She lurched forward, tumbling out of her seat as he drew near the well. She let out a pained yelp as she hit the floor.

He was at her side in a moment. He hooked a gentle hand under her elbow and tried to help her to her feet.

"Leave me alone!" She struggled with him, breath catching on a sob. He let go and she fell again with a cry. "Go away!" She swung at him, open handed and easy to dodge.

He crouched at her side, studying her face. "I said I would not harm you," he left his hand in the air between them. "I was trying to help you stand."

"You _fool_," she snarled at him. Up close her eyes were as dark as her hair. "I cannot stand. It has been my curse since Odin All-Father came to play with us one day while Father was out. 'Call me Grandfather' he said and turned Fenrir into a wolf. 'Call me Grandfather' he said and laid waste to my legs!" She lunged at him again, fingered hooked into claws, her eyes glittering with tears.

He caught her in his arms, letting sharp nails hook into the rough linen of his shirt. He curled a palm around the back of her head, ignoring the sharp snap of teeth near his neck. She struggled for a minute more before sagging against him with a shuddering sob. He pulled the wasted, limp girl into his arms as she curled a fist into his shirt, the too thin bones of her body shuddering as she cried.

Behind them, the pool of black liquid began to bubble.

**qpqpqpqp**

It had been a wonderful evening. Gifts had been given in the Slytherin common room – even Ginny, Harry was surprised to see – had gotten things for their Slytherin housemates. How she had arranged, under Sirius' watchful eye, Harry was not sure, but he was impressed. Blaise had laughed like a loon at Harry's present, while Neville tried to defend his boyfriend, even as he tried not to smile. Harry had even received small gifts from a few of the younger years, their eyes wide as they sidled up to the boisterous group that had claimed the couches near the hearth. Draco had promised to deliver Harry's presents, since Harry had not wanted to risk Sirius' tantrums to send an owl to the Malfoy Manor over the break.

It had been a pleasant evening. A _good_ evening. Harry even got to fall asleep, tangled with Draco under the thick covers of his dorm bed without a nightmare being involved.

Which was why, when the Dream hit, it displeased Harry very, very much.

He landed in a heap on a shining Path. The air from his lungs was forced out with a high squeak. He slapped a hand to his chest, sucking in a lungful of air.

"Just once," he told the Dark. "I'd like a graceful landing, please."

"Only once?" A familiar voice asked.

He spun, scrambling to his feet. "Pythia?"

The Greek oracle smiled and opened her arms. He gave her a careful embrace, intimidated by the pristine fall of white cloth that tumbled down around her.

"I thought…" Harry trailed off as he drew away. "I thought you could not leave your cave."

"Yes," she shrugged. "And no."

"Huh?"

"I dream and I am away. I did not leave my cave the night I came to your Draco's manor – I dreamt and I walked and you dreamt along with me."

"Huh?"

Her smile did not reach her eyes. A soft touch of her fingers at his cheek made him jump. "Did you think every time you Dreamed you came to a place that was the same in time and space as the one in which you left your physical body?"

"…Well," Harry frowned. "It makes sense that way. Wait – you mean I haven't?"

Her thumb swept his cheek bone. "Time is fluid, Harry. Backwards and forwards often have no meaning when time does not move at all."

"But…doesn't that mean…"

"Yes?"

Harry curled his hands into loose fists at his sides. "I can appear in time? Like a – a time traveler?"

"No, you can only Dream yourself in time," she cocked her head to one side. "But the other is…almost possible."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you see when you look to the future, Harry?" She caught his shoulder and turned him around. The Dark wavered, shifted and _changed_.

"Wait – _how_ –,"

"The threads of past and even the future can be teased out, gathered with gentle hands and tugged," her grip tightened on his shoulder. For a second they stood outside a familiar house – the Dursley house – and watched Harry struggle with a stubborn can of tuna. The image blinked out even as the then-Harry raised his head.

"Wait – was that…" Harry turned to look at her.

"The threads, Harry," she said. "Are the things you must understand."

"The…threads?"

"Yes."

"But…I don't understand."

Her hand slipped away. "Each choice we make, Harry, is a choice that affects the future and the past. But, if you bottle the threads too tight, if they are scattered and tangled, the future and the past can come together and disappear." Her fingers snapped together, a sharp, dry sound that made him flinch. "But sometimes, even the paradoxical is needed to undo the unthinkable."

"Huh?"

"It was good to meet you, Harry Potter," her smile shaded the dimples in her cheeks. "Until I meet you again."

"Wait – what? Hey!" Harry reached for her, but the Dark rushed in, like the waves from a broken dam. It crashed in the space between them, ripping the Dream to shreds.

Harry woke to Draco calling his name as he thrashed against the hold the blond had around his body. Harry buried his face into Draco's neck, breathing in the familiar scent. It was a long time before Draco was able to calm Harry down long enough to talk.

The chill of the dream stayed with him until morning.

**qpqpqpqp**

Hel was quiet in his arms. The girl had her head tucked under his chin, shivering from time to time.

"I wasn't supposed to come back," she said after a long while.

"Neither was I," said Gwyn ap Nudd.

"I remember the Dark coming, rushing in one day after I had slept and I was so happy. I thought – I thought, yes, maybe, Fenrir was freed or Father had found a way to avoid the Ragnarok, but – that wasn't it, was it?"

"Perhaps," he shifted her on his lap, getting a sharp hip bone for his thigh. "Every culture has an end of the world belief. And the end of the world - your, _our_, worlds – did happen. The old ways were forgotten. All was reborn."

"There was supposed to be a fight," she sounded a touch sulky.

"Some plan to go with a shout, only to gutter out on a whisper," he swallowed a sigh, his own last words soft in his mind.

"We still weren't supposed to come back," she said, pushing away from his chest. "I didn't want to come back. I don't like this place. He made me mistress of this realm and I don't like it."

"You could leave."

"I can't," she bowed her head. "Odin All-Father thought of that as well. I leave my halls, my realm and I start the Ragnarok." Her smile was little more than a twist of her lips. "I considered the decision more than once."

"Then perhaps friends could come to you."

"…Friends?"

"Yes."

"You are mad, Lord of Annwn."

"Gwyn ap Nudd," he corrected.

She looked away. "Gwyn ap Nudd," she echoed. "You are still mad."

"Perhaps. My fairer siblings have always believed that I am."

She shook her head. "I…"

She was interrupted by a soft sighing sound. They twisted together, facing the direction of the noise. Hel gasped as they watched the pool of black liquid bubble up to a mound, the hiss of the broken steam bubbles sounding again and again.

"No!" Hel struggled forward, using her arms to drag her body along.

"Wait!" Gwyn ap Nudd held her back, even as the pool began to shoot small fountains of inky liquid into the air.

"This – something is happening…" Hel pushed at his hands. "Something –,"

From one of the small geysers a feather fluttered out. Blood dripped, still hot, from the stem. It landed in his hand with a smear of copper scented red. Another jet brought the ragged edges of a scream into the hall. It was the Morrigan's voice, screaming war cries that only the Morrigan knew.

He was on his feet before he knew what he was doing. Hel latched onto his ankle.

"What are you doing?" She shook a fistful of his pants material.

"I must go," he wanted to flinch at the expression of betrayal that crossed her face.

"No," her expression grew hard. "No, you said we were friends."

"I must do this," he knelt and grasped her hands in his. "I will come again, I swear it."

"Don't leave," she shook her head, hair flying about her face. "Don't leave."

"I must. I am sorry," he let her go and stood. The hall had gained definition. The tall ceiling was pattered gray-on-black, the looping circles of wards trailing over each other. The great doors at the end of the hall were thick and shiny once more. He strode for the opening, forcing himself not to look back. He never saw Hel crumple to the floor with a cry, or see her jerk back from the spreading pool of black liquid with a curse.

He did not hear her ringing screams as she stared into the well of the future, the bright images flashing across the slick surfaces, one after the other.

**qpqpqpqp**

Crom Cruach ran a hand along the smooth temple wall. It was almost there, almost ready. The altar block had been prepared, coated in the blood of newborn infants his followers had been eager to gather. No one, they had assured him, would miss the sniveling, pregnant mothers. They would be fodder for another ceremony, if they lived. It was their children, so heavy with the bright promise of life, that he had been interested in.

The walls were up. The altar was in place. Soon, soon it would time for the fires and for the screams of Imbolic.

"Soon, yes, soon," he crooned to the crusted altar stone. He and he alone heard his own laughter bounce off the barren walls, late into the night.

End Chapter Thirty-Nine


	40. Chapter 40: Dream Within a Dream

Chapter Forty: Dream Within a Dream

They had returned to Hogwarts on January the fifth – and by January the sixth, Harry had a note to meet Madam Umbridge in the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom to discuss his 'detentions'.

The mood in the Slytherin dorm was icy. Harry had slipped away with Pansy and Millicent as escorts – he pitied the person who decided to tangle with the two girls while he was…busy.

Classes would start the next day. Harry had hoped to have one more peaceful day with Draco and his friends before it all started up again. The papers over the winter holidays had not helped his cause either. There was a rash of missing people in muggle London and its suburbs. The entire wizarding world was on edge. There had been a marked decrease of god sightings in the muggle world. No one knew exactly what was happening.

Harry knew, from the vague whispers and the intent glares that had been thrown around the dorm ever since he got his summons, that Draco and the rest of his House had something planned, but Harry would not be allowed to know what. The less he had to lie about when facing Umbridge, the better, and it also meant that there was a less of a chance in Draco being injured by her curse.

Far too soon they were at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom door. Harry left the girls in the hall behind him and entered. Umbridge was seated behind her desk, dressed in pastel pink, a small carnation tucked into the buttonhole of her fitted jacket.

"Mr. Potter." Her smile was all teeth.

"Professor Umbridge." He hated calling her professor, but it was a title she enforced in her classroom.

"It's so good to see that you've survived the holidays without mishap," her eyes still had the same manic glitter as always. "You have some detentions to make up."

"Make…up?"

"Oh, yes."

"But I thought…"

"For impertinence," she let out a happy sigh. "Your papers, I've just finished going through them and I must say, Mr. Potter, I am quite disappointed in you."

It came to him, in that instant, that Umbridge was just as bad as Voldemort in her own way. She would keep coming after him, again and again, with one excuse after the other. She would not stop and he could not make her stop, not when she held all the power in their situation.

He felt his nails bite into the skin of his palms. "Every Sunday evening, like before then?"

"That would do nicely, you man," she pursed her lips and tilted her head to one side. "How _is_ Mr. Malfoy these days? Oh, yes, do forgive me, you've been rather distant lately, _haven't you_?"

"Yes, ma'am. Very distant."

"How excellent. Well then, go on," she nodded at the first row of desks in front of her. The dreaded pen and inkwell sat in the center, crouched at the top of a pile of parchment, like miniature predators. If they had had eyes, Harry would have sworn they would have been trained on him.

"But…"

"No buts, Mr. Potter. Or would you care to find out how much pain Mr. Malfoy can stand?"

His gut clenched. "No," he gritted out.

"No, what?"

"No, Professor Umbridge. I don't want to find that out."

"Very well, then," she made a lazy gesture at the desk. He dragged his feet, heading towards it.

In the end, Pansy and Millicent had to wait a lot longer for him than they had expected.

**qpqpqpqp**

Severus folded his hands in his lap and considered the man on his couch.

"I take it, this isn't a normal meeting?" Auror Rayne set his cup aside.

"No," Severus inclined his head in a slow nod. "Not at all."

"How is Harry?"

"Not…well."

Rayne shifted on the couch. "He's told you this?"

"My observations, only."

Rayne frowned, eyeing Severus with shadowed eyes. "Is there something going on?"

"Yes."

"That involves Harry?"

"…I cannot say."

"Why not?"

"You are a trained Auror, Rayne." Severus felt his lip curl. "Even you should understand the nature of magic."

Rayne leaned back in his seat, a sheet of calm settling over his features. "Why have you asked me to come?"

"Because you needed to be informed."

"That's all?"

"…No." Severus picked up his cooling tea and took a sip. "You have been reinstated to normal duties, have you not?"

"Yes. Minister Scrimgeour's orders."

"Have you received any orders telling you to avoid contact with Harry?"

Rayne's mouth settled into a firm line. "I cannot discuss such things with you, Snape."

"If it came down to it, Rayne," Severus decided to stop dithering with pleasantries, "Would you come and arrest Harry or would you fight for him?"

Rayne went very still. "There would have to be just cause for something like that to happen."

"Oh, come, Auror Rayne. We all know that is a falsehood."

A muscle leaped in Rayne's jaw. "I cannot answer such a vague –"

"Yes or no, Rayne." Severus felt the comforting weight of his wand in his sleeve.

Rayne turned his face away, staring into the fire. "I would fight," he said after a long pause. "You should have known that by now, Snape."

"There are few things in this world I profane to _know_, Rayne. The rest is up for interpretation." Severus murmured a warming spell over his tepid tea. "This problem, however, goes beyond Mr. Potter."

"How?"

"It includes Mr. Malfoy."

Rayne canted an eyebrow. "Harry has dragged Lucius Malfoy into this?"

"In a way, but the Mr. Malfoy I was referring to was the younger."

"Ah, of course," Rayne straightened in his seat. "Is there anything I can do?"

Perfect, Severus set aside his cup and leaned forward. "What information would you be able to acquire about one Dolores Umbridge?"

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry wouldn't let Draco see his hand. The blond wanted to strangle the boy – but knew that it was mostly his frustration talking. He wanted – no, he _needed_ to be able to do something. His father had been livid when Draco had found a way to tell the older man about the curse and Harry's punishments. Lucius had raged for an entire morning, already upset about his inability to see the temple before everyone else, going back and forth between Black's incompetence as a guardian and how he could strangle Umbridge himself for daring to curse the Malfoy heir.

It had been a sight to see.

Once Severus had been informed – there had been no way Draco could stop his father from sharing the information, Draco had received a stern lecture from the Potions Master about not coming for help sooner. Then they had all put their heads together and come up with the same answer Sasha and Hermione had figured out weeks before.

They would need to wait for the new moon and the ingredients to arrive on time fore they could attempt to break the curse. There was no other way.

After settling Harry in his room – he had wanted to be alone and Draco could never deny those eyes – Draco had paced back to the work rooms to vent some of his anger in a place that could hold up against his wrath.

"What are ye doing that for?"

The room was locked from the inside. Draco had made sure of that. He kept his wand held tight in his hand as he whirled on the owner of the voice.

A portly man stood next to the door. A small smile on his face as he rested his hands on his belly. He seemed familiar to Draco. The robes, the lack of hair…

"Ogma!" He said without thinking.

"Ah, yes, clever lad. Took you long enough," the god rocked up onto his toes and then back down to his heels.

"What did you just…"

"It is rare, these days," Ogma continued. "For a young man, such as yourself, to ask for such…intriguing things at Yule."

Draco had yet to lower his wand. "Weren't you unable to speak English before?"

"Oh, that," Ogma waved a hand. "Humanity has advanced so much while I have slept. It was easy enough to learn."

"Right," Draco let his arm drop to his side, but did not put his wand away. "Wait – what were you – "

"Wisdom, I believe is what you had asked for." Ogma took a small step. "A quill and parchment, as well as an offering of flesh and blood, am I right?"

Draco's arm throbbed, the small scar from the wound hidden under his shirt. He had not told anyone about his offerings, not even his father or Harry.

"You are correct," Draco acknowledged. "Was the gift too small?"

The pleased smile on Ogma's face grew. "Small? Young man, oh no." He took another step forward. "Just right, I would say."

"You would say," Draco echoed.

"And then your curious observance at the new temple, indeed, a normal person would have paraded in front of one of those solar deities that are so popular."

"I am not normal," Draco lifted his chin. "I'm a Slytherin. We're better than normal."

To his surprise, the god began to laugh, a hearty chuckle that moved the bulk of his middle. Draco held his ground as the god advanced, unwilling to retreat.

"Ah, what a young man you are, Draco, heir of the Malfoy clan," Ogma was right in front of him. Draco could feel the power of the god surround him, causing the small hairs on the back of his neck to stand up on end.

One long finger reached out and tapped Draco on the forehead, just above the spot between his eyes. "You should be careful what you wish for, young man. Remember that." The power in the room rose to a level that caused Draco's bones to vibrate. He struggled to breathe through the charged air, unable to look away from the god's eyes.

"Merry Yule," Ogma whispered, and the world went dark.

**qpqpqpqp**

Gwyn ap Nudd charged through the Dark, short sword in one hand, ready to swing at whatever charged at him from the Dark.

He had her scent, now. The feathers lay in thick clumps, all over the ground. A small part of his mind wondered how there could be so many feathers, so bloody, so torn, and not have the tang of her blood-scent lodged in the back of his throat. He shook the thought away with a snarl. He was close. He had to concentrate.

Something amorphous roared and burst from the gloom. A sweep of his blade had the creature tumbling away with a shriek and spray of blood. Gwyn ap Nudd did not pause on his charge.

He had her scent, her trail. He would find her soon.

**qpqpqpqp**

The first week back at classes were always taxing. Harry cradled his hand to his chest when he walked through the halls, unwilling to let it bump against the other students. He had let that happen, once. Never again.

Professor McGonagall shot him a few worried looks throughout the week. He did his best to avoid her gaze and dodge the headmaster's twinkling stare. He wasn't sure what would happen with Umbridge if those two found out and he wasn't willing to risk it. Not after Draco's collapse.

The blond swore it wasn't the curse – or at least, alluded that it wasn't, since everyone, it seemed, in the entire House, knew what was going on. Draco was curiously mum on the entire thing, submitting to Severus' barked orders and a night in the Infirmary without a peep.

Madam Pomfrey had looked the other way when she had found Harry asleep in the chair next to Draco's bed. She had also been kind enough to sooth the kink in his neck he had gotten because of it.

Whatever had happened, it hadn't hurt Draco, at least as far as Harry could tell. He knew Draco wanted to tell him something – but the whole mess with Umbridge kept them quiet. Harry was ready to curse the meddling old bitch, himself, if the others didn't hurry up and shatter the curse on Draco. He wanted his confidant back.

Harry was tired of putting up with the crap that kept heading his way.

It was the Friday after the first week of classes. He still had detention Sunday night, but Harry was determined to enjoy the rest of the weekend, throbbing hand be damned.

He set his books down harder than normal on the House table. Draco peered up at him.

"All right there, Harry?"

"I'm fine," he sat down and took his goblet of pumpkin juice with his good hand. He was getting better with his non-dominant side, ever since the mess with Umbridge had happened.

Draco tilted his head as he studied Harry's face. "Are you allowed to go to Hogsmead now?"

Harry swallowed down a large gulp. "Yes," he refused to let that get him bitter as well. Sirius' letter had been full to the brim about how _good_ Harry had been and how _proud_ he was that Harry was back to _normal_.

Draco leaned into Harry's side. They were hidden from the view of the head table by the strategic placement of the Quidditch team beaters. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to Hogsmead then?"

Harry choked on a mouthful of juice as Pansy and Blaise made gagging noises in the background. Neville patted Harry on the back as he recovered, trying to glare at the blond and failing.

"You – you –," he threw his hands into the air. "Of course I will."

"How romantic," Draco rolled his eyes as Harry gaped, pulled back and smacked the blond on the shoulder.

With his bad hand.

He felt his smile go stiff and strained. The cheer around them dimmed. Harry tried to keep his expression blank, but for some reason his eyes had become blurry.

"Oh, am I late?" Ginny's voice broke the moment. They hadn't told the younger girl, as far as Harry could tell. He wasn't sure if she could have kept the secret from Sirius for long – Ginny did not like keeping things from her new father and Harry was relieved that she had turned a blind eye to how much time Harry spent with Draco, against Sirius' express wishes.

"No, Ginny," Pansy chirped. "We're just about to start, I think." On cue, Dumbledore rose and dinner appeared.

Harry took the moment of confusion to wipe at his eyes. He felt Draco curl a hand around his arm. He patted at it and blinked a few times, shaking his head until his bangs fell forward to shield his eyes from view.

"Oh, Harry! Did you get Father's letter?" Ginny sat opposite and a few spots down from him.

"Yes," he managed. He felt Neville shift and press a handkerchief into Harry's hand. He swiped at his face while Pansy distracted Ginny and tucked the fabric into his pocket.

"Aren't you excited?" Ginny flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Pansy said Sasha knows some bookstores that we can go to! Won't that be fun?"

"Are you sure you're not part Ravenclaw?" Harry teased, daring to look up.

"Harry! I just want to be prepared _and_ Professor Sinistra just assigned us a term project and the Library just got raided by all the others…"

"A true Slytherin," Draco intoned with a smile and a nudge to Harry's ribs.

"Like we had to guess," he snorted back at the boy. Ginny blushed, but laughed as the others chuckled.

Harry let the good mood wash through him. _This will be a good weekend_, he told himself. _It will_.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Harry?" Draco poked his head into the boy's room after his knock earned him a muffled 'come in'.

"Here," Harry was struggling with his coat, one-handed.

The slow burn of anger in his gut spiked, but he quelled it with a ruthless push. Harry had been so determined to be cheerful, to have a good, fun weekend Draco had vowed to be the last one to ruin that sentiment.

"Let me help," Draco stepped forward and untangled the sleeve of Harry's jacket. He kept his tone as neutral as possible.

"Thanks," Harry blew his bangs out of his face. "Ready to go?" He wouldn't meet Draco's eyes.

_Umbridge is lucky this Sunday is the night of the new moon_. "Yes," Draco grabbed the House scarf off of Harry's desk and wound it around the smaller boy's neck, despite his protests.

"Where did you want to go?" Harry asked, once he had tugged the material away from his mouth. Draco led the way, out of the room and out into the common room.

"Pansy mentioned that a new restaurant has opened," Draco said to keep Harry occupied.

"A new place? Where?"

"Off one of the back streets, I believe." Draco waited for Harry to join him at his side. Blaise was escorting Neville out through the door and Pansy was just venturing from the girl's dorm with Millicent in tow. Ginny was busy chattering at them both, a pair of pretty earrings twinkling in the light from the room as they stepped into the better illuminated room.

He turned to Harry. "Ready to go?"

Harry's nod caused his hat to fall down over his eyes. "Oh, yes," the boy said. "You bet I am."

**qpqp**

Harry had noted that most of the House was on edge throughout the day. He could tell Pansy's patience was wearing thin and Millicent hadn't bothered to hide her scowl. Ginny seemed oblivious to it all – and it was her cheerful good mood that kept Harry's flagging spirits in decent shape.

The new restaurant that Pansy had found was a far cry from their usual haunts. The thickly padded floors, the jewel-toned pillows and hanging tapestries looked more like something from out of a movie the Dursleys would have watched than real life.

"What does this say?" Harry peered at the menu, wondering for a moment if he needed to get his glasses checked again. All the words were slanted in a script that looked more like elaborate lace than letters.

"I…haven't the foggiest," it was rare to see Draco as perplexed as he was. He tilted the menu one way and then the other.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, quit it," Pansy leaned past Millicent's shoulder to scold him. "The English portion is on the next page. Don't be such a baby about everything."

"Do _you_ understand what is says?" Draco shot back.

"No, but I can read the English parts, so who cares about the rest?"

Harry ducked his head to hide his smile. Their bickering lacked the brittle edge that had accompanied most of their exchanges throughout the morning.

The food was strange, but tasty. They and a few adults were the only patrons that chilly afternoon. The spicy tea that was served in thick clay cups that had no handle was sweet, in a foreign way. Harry wasn't sure if he liked this _chai_ as they called it, but it was a pleasant adventure that had nothing to do with death, dying or gods.

At least he hoped the adults that drifted in and out of the small restaurant were mortals and not gods.

Harry settled in next to Draco as the afternoon wore on. They were all ready for a break; the wind outside had been rising throughout the day, sending snow flurries down onto the village. Harry was grateful for the cap and scarf that had been forced on him – he reminded himself to stop in and speak to Professor Snape the next day. He knew the Potions Master would hate the thought of Harry hiding things from him. He owed it to the older wizard to at least try and explain what he could – if Draco and the others hadn't already told him, which was the most likely case. If that turned out to be true, well…Harry set his jaw. He'd go see the man anyway.

A small part of him felt guilty that he was more eager to talk to his Head of House than he legal guardian. He pushed that thought away with ruthless resolve.

He still had plenty of day left to enjoy. He refused to spoil it.

**qpqpqpqp**

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as Harry dropped off to sleep. He closed the door behind him on a gentle breath, freezing for a moment to make sure he had not woken the other boy. In the hall were the rest of the now sixth year students and a handful of seventh, Sasha included. Severus stood beyond them in the light of the common room, hands folded into the sleeves of his robe.

"Let's go," Draco said, taking point. He led them into the maze of tunnels, heading for the workrooms. They had a lot of work to do.

**qpqp**

The gift – as Ogma put it –had thrown Draco for a loop at first. The god's words, the return gift for the offerings, was all well out of Draco's range of things that he understood and had anticipated. Having something like an encyclopedic spell lexicon shoved into his brain was a whole other kettle of fish all together.

_It's not even useful knowledge_, he pushed the thought aside as he and the others readied the room. Draco had asked for wisdom and guidance – and, according to Ogma, was granted it. Draco failed to see the correlation.

_Although_, he did admit, pausing in his work on the formal alchemical seal they were creating on the workroom floor. _Wisdom is, by some definitions, knowledge, but on that same note, it is knowledge gained by experience and life lessons. Which would make the acquired knowledge in my head worthless, since I do not know which spell and what advice goes with what experience_.

He let out a sigh. _I should have been more specific_. From the looming silence in his head, that was one of the life lessons his knowledge had been gained from.

There were days when he could have strangled the bald god with his own bare hands.

Still, the knowledge he had gained had helped to make their preparations a whole moon cycle early. Somewhere, in the sea of information that Ogma had stuffed into his brain, was the knowledge of a sort cut to the particular curse breaking ritual they needed to use. Draco had decided not to question it – all of the other tests he had put the god's knowledge to had proved their worth. He would have to trust that the god was correct on this one too.

The one thing Draco could not blame on the god was his dreams. They had become more erratic of late – they had started the night the Wild Magic had decided to descend on Harry – and to a lesser degree Draco as well. They dreams of wind, of a stretch of muscles in his back he did not own, the feel of furry hide slicing open under hands that were not hands – he always woke from the dreams panting for breath and feeling as though his entire body was on fire.

The god's knowledge held no answers for him there, either. He would ask Harry –when he could again – and they would figure it out, together. Like they had planned.

Yes, Draco was definitely ready to end the curse Umbridge had placed on him. Definitely.

The circle they had painted onto the floor was dark against the gray flagstone. They had gloves and masks over their faces as Severus watched them with a careful eye – the mixture they had put together had a lead base and their head of House had been anything but pleased when he had learned of that particular detail. Still, the lead would act as their base, the branch that led into the groundwork that would unravel the curse – and add to their little surprise.

They were going to send the curse right back at the woman – with one alteration. Draco couldn't wait to see how it worked.

Blaise, Pansy, Millicent and Neville took up their places at the four main directional quarters. Severus had called him mad to use Neville in the ritual, but Draco had countered that out of them all, Neville was closest in strength to Draco, rivaling even Harry in terms of pure magical strength and reserves. The corners would not have much to do besides anchoring the spell – Severus was the one who would be doing all the hard work.

Draco stripped to the skin, pushing away the mild embarrassment that threatened. He had sworn that he would do anything it took to get rid of this curse from him and if he had to parade around in front of his friends starkers, well, it was a small price to pay for the freedom he would gain.

Although if one _word_ of this got out to Harry, Draco also vowed to cut Pansy's hair with scissors and leave it a mess.

He laid down on the chilly floor and closed his eyes. The slick surface under him was full of toxic chemicals he would be forced to endure until the ritual was over. That, too, was part of the short cut he had been given. He hoped it worked.

He took a deep breath as he felt Severus step over the painted lines of power. It was time to begin.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry twisted in his sheets, cold. He was halfway to dreams, but a nagging voice in his brain kept trying to wake him up. He was alone – that wasn't right, Draco should have been there. But the other boy was gone and the bed felt cold. Harry shivered and wrapped the heavy comforter around his body, but the chill would not dissipate.

He shifted onto his side, one leg thrown out into the wide sea of open space on the bed. His skin itched, prickling down his spine in a way that was not normal. He scrunched up his nose, feeling the urge to drift off clear. He was starting to wake up again. He was so _tired_ of waking up throughout the night – all he wanted was a full eight hours of sleep. Uninterrupted. With no dreams, or nightmares or –

"Wakey, wakey," said a voice in his ear. _Or any damn visitors_, he finished in his head.

He was no longer on the bed. The soft comforter was gone, as was the mattress. He lifted his head and spat out a mouthful of sand, eyeing his surroundings.

The Path was the only illumination in the dark, and even it was soft, a thin game trail that wandered off into the gloom. Harry wiped his face with his hand and turned to look at the woman who had spoken.

She had dark hair that fell in ringlets around her face and over her shoulders. The toga-looking dress was bunched in odd places, a pale gray color that matched her eyes and mouth.

Harry drew in a breath – and began to cough. Dust lodged in the back of his throat, drying his mouth. The woman smiled, crouched in the Dark, just off the Path. The soft glow touched the skin of her face and exposed arms and hands. She seemed pale to Harry, as though she had never seen the sun.

"Ah, hello," Harry scratched the back of his neck, glancing around once he got breath back to speak.

"A dark haired dreamer," she reached out, her hand hovering over the skin of his forehead. "Marked and hunted, chased through realms of life and death. How strange, it is, that we have not met."

Harry blinked, considering her still expression and the shadows that seemed to creep and swirl around her. "Who are you?"

Her dark mouth curved, the cupid's bow lips thinning into a grin that flashed a bit of teeth. "I…am a relic, a forgotten god from a forgotten people," her fingers carded through the dark grains of sand beneath them.

"I'm…sorry?"

"Whatever for, child? You have brought us all back to life, you and the others. The call has gone out, all must answer." She cocked her head to one side, a sharp glance pinning him in place. "_All_ must answer, you understand?"

"I…think so," he swallowed, mouth still dry as the desert. "I think…when people realize that – they'll hate me even more for it."

She threw back her head, her laughter more like defiant barks than a woman's giggle. "Mortals," she flashed him another smile full of teeth. "You think so _linearly_."

"A god knows what linearly means?"

The smile turned smug. "Not all sleep as deeply as the red headed horde from your isle. Some of us dreamed the dreams of the poets and seekers that have populated this world."

"But you said…"

"Do you always believe what strange gods tell you, all alone, in the Dark?"

His breath caught in his throat. Her dark eyes were laughing at him. The glitter of lights too numerous to be anything natural in their depths.

"Who are you?" He asked again, hands clenched around the fine, gray sand.

She leaned forward, gaze intent on his face. "It does not matter who I am, little dreamer. What matters is what I _see_."

"And what do you see?"

"I see the future splinter like a dagger made from obsidian. I see you scream and flee, eyes bleeding from bloody sockets, to be eaten by the Dark."

Harry's gut clenched. "That's what you wanted to tell me?"

"No," the smile was back. "But the Path you are on is dwindling, little dreamer. You have to find another way."

"I don't understand."

Her hand rose from the sands. A black feather was clutched in her fist. "The Paths are vanishing, one by one. You lack the Dream, but the call still rings out. Do you hear it?"

"No."

"Then you are doomed."

'But…"

"Find another Path, little dreamer," the woman crawled forward. Harry could not move, his body frozen where he sat in the dimming light of the Path. "Take this kiss upon the brow," she murmured, brushing dark lips to his skin. She pressed the feather into his hand. "Remember," she breathed into his ear. They were pressed tight together. He could feel the swell of her skin against his chest. "All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."

"What?"

"In parting from you now, thus much let me avow," her tone took on a crooning cadence. He knew this, he _knew _this poem she was whispering into his ear…"You are not wrong, who dream, that my days have been a dream; yet if hope has flown away, in a night or in a day, in a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone?" She pressed her lips to his cheek. "Is all that we see or seem, but a dream within a dream?"

Harry woke up with a gasp, mouth tasting like ashes and sorrow, the god's words thundering through his head like an echoing bell.

The feather was still in his head when he managed to unclench his fingers. He did not sleep for the rest of the night.

End Chapter Forty

*credit to Edgar Allen Poe for use of the poem 'A Dream Within a Dream'


	41. Chapter 41: Serious Sirius

Chapter Forty-One: Serious Sirius

The whole of Slytherin House looked a little worse for wear the next morning.

"Hello, Harry," Neville pushed his bangs out of his face, revealing tired eyes with shadows etched underneath. "How'd you sleep?"

Harry sank into his seat next to Draco. "I had a god wake me up in the middle of the night to recite poetry at me," he reached for his plate. "Pass the bangers and mash, please."

Draco choked. Blaise patted the other boy on the back. All of them were staring.

"What?" Harry scooped out a steaming heap of potatoes. "You all _told_ me to tell you when stuff like that happened. And I got a feather."

"What bloody kind of poetry? Feather?"

"Nothing like that, Draco," Harry made a face at the jams nearest to him and leaned across Neville to take the pot of raspberry jam from the girls.

"What – what –"

"Edgar Allen Poe," Harry spread a layer of jam onto his toast. "I would have thought The Raven would have been a better choice, but," he made a face and shrugged.

"Harry?" Draco settled a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"No," he answered, and it sounded short even to his own ears.

"Harry…"

"My, my," the nasal tones of Dolores Umbridge came from behind them. "I am _most_ disappointed in you, Mr. Potter."

Harry's fork clattered onto his plate. He twisted in his seat to stare at the woman. Draco's hand did not leave its place on his shoulder.

"P-Professor –"

"It's all right, Harry," Draco cut in.

"Why, Mr. Malfoy, I'm surprised. I thought the two of you young men were not speaking to each other."

"Fat lot you know," Draco snarled back, causing Harry to flinch.

"Draco!"

"Really, Mr. Malfoy," Umbridge's smile was edged like a razor. "I should think that you should know better than to speak to your betters with such an insolent tone."

"You will never be my better, you –,"

"Mr. Malfoy," they all turned to see Professor Snape standing at the edge of their small crowd. They were beginning to draw stares from the other tables in the Great Hall.

"But, sir…"

"Enough. Dolores," Snape's mouth twisted the name. Umbridge scowled at him. "It is far too early in the morning to be attacking my student, don't you think?"

"Me? Attack? Come now, Severus –"

"Snape, Professor Snape," the Potions Master did not crack a smile. "And I will thank you to remember that."

"How _dare_ you."

"Feel free to take a complaint to the Headmaster," Severus shrugged. "Do get away from my students now, Dolores."

"My _name_ is –"

"I don't really care, and never have," Severus tossed his head, black eyes narrowing on the woman's face.

"I will have you written up, Snape! Mark my words!" The woman shook a furious finger in his face and marched off. Snape snorted and moved back to the watching Head Table. Harry could have sworn he saw McGonagall applaud the Potions Master as he sat down.

"What are you – mph!" Harry's irate question was cut off by Draco cupping his face and kissing him in front of the entire Great Hall.

"It's broken," Draco said when he finally drew away.

Harry blinked, and then lunged at Draco, causing his Housemates to snicker and cough around them. Harry didn't give a damn. Things were starting to look up.

**qpqpqpqp**

Umbridge's class was hellish – Harry snorted at the pun – but the annoying woman was too furious to do much more than snarl at them every time a person so much as shifted in their seat.

Once they were out of classes, Draco took Harry's good hand and dragged him to the Infirmary, Harry protesting the entire way.

"Really, Draco…"

"No, Harry."

"But…"

"Just come along."

Harry dug in his heels, but Draco was the stronger of them. Harry wasn't sure just what sort of image they made, storming into the Infirmary as they did, but it did send two Hufflepuff first years running from the room.

Harry bit back a sigh at the hit that would inevitably take to his already ruined reputation. At the point they were at, Harry was ready to give up on it and become a hermit.

"Mr. Potter? Mr. Malfoy?" Pomfrey paused in the middle of folding a great heap of bandages. "Whatever is wrong?"

"Harry's hurt," Draco said before Harry could think of an excuse to get them out of there.

"Hurt? Hurt where?"

"It's nothing…"

"Umbridge has been forcing detentions on him for months. It's hurting his hand, but she did some spell so we can't tell what's wrong."

Poppy's mouth thinned into an unhappy line. "A notice-me-not spell on a student? What is that woman thinking?" She set her bandages aside and motioned them forward.

"It's nothing, really," Harry shot a look at Draco, but the blond was unrepentant. "It only hurt – well, I don't have to go back anymore, so it'll heal up on its own…"

"Your hand, Mr. Potter," Poppy's tone booked no argument.

Harry sighed and extended the hand. He winced when Pomfrey touched his skin – the last detention with Umbridge had been long and the wounds were turning red and puffy.

Pomfrey muttered as she ran her wand over the wounded area. Each pass caused her frown to deepen. A sharp shake of her wand and a curt word in a language Harry did not recognize and then, then, Umbridge's spell dropped away.

Draco's strangled sound came from Harry's right. Pomfrey's hand tightened on his own for a moment.

"Oh, Mr. Potter," Poppy sighed. "Come along. It's good Mr. Malfoy brought you in when he did."

"But…"

Draco gave him a gentle push after the retreating nurse. They followed the woman into her private office, leaving the door open behind them.

"Sit," she pointed at a chair in front of her desk. Harry sat. She turned to peruse her shelves full of vials as Draco sank down into the seat next to him.

"This should do the trick," she plucked a few bottles from their shelves and turned around. "Mr. Malfoy, do go and get me that mixer on the cart, would you? I also need the strainer and the burner."

"But can't you…"

"Hurry now, Mr. Malfoy."

A muscle moved in the blond's jaw, but he hurried out of the room to get the items she needed.

A cold ball of dread had settled in Harry's stomach. "Mr. Potter," Poppy sat the vials onto her desk with another sigh. "I'm afraid I am bound by my oath as a healer to contact your guardian and inform him about this abuse."

"It wasn't _abuse_, it was Umbridge's detention!"

"Mr. Potter – Harry," she held up one hand. "Such type of corporal punishment is against Hogwarts' by-laws. I am oath bound to report this to the Headmaster and your guardian."

"You _have_ to tell Sirius?"

"Yes, young man."

"But…" He slumped in his seat. "He'll go mental!"

"Who's going mental?" Draco asked from the door. He levitated the necessary items to Poppy's desk with a deft flick of his wrist.

"Sirius. He's going to blow a gasket if he finds out."

"Good," Draco snorted. "That should open his eyes a bit."

"But I didn't _tell_ him about it!"

"And?"

Harry resisted the urge to yank at his hair. "He'll go _mental_, Draco. He'll be mad at _me_ for not telling him."

"If you explain…"

"I really do need to take a report of this," Poppy interrupted. Harry slumped further into his chair and closed his eyes.

_Please don't be mad, Sirius. Please don't be mad…_

**qpqpqpqp**

The next week passed in fits and starts for Harry. Classes were gearing up for their first major tests of the winter term. Dumbledore had taken Umbridge aside the night Pomfrey had handed in her report – but the Ministry-backed woman had stayed and the Headmaster had not looked pleased with whatever conversation he had had with the current Minister about his appointed servant in the school.

Harry had breathed a sigh of relief when Ginny told him that Sirius and Remus were off on another trip – a relief that was short lived when the doors to the Great Hall slammed open that Friday next, displaying one enraged Sirius Black storming into the castle during supper.

"You!" Sirius' advance on the Head Table caused some chairs to scrape back. Harry watched, his bandaged hand hovering halfway between his mouth and his plate.

Umbridge stumbled to her feet, her chair clattering to the ground behind her. "Mr. Black, how kind of you to come. I'm sure you've received my letter –"

"Oh, I've received _letters_ all right!" the animagus shook a fistful of parchment at the woman. A man Harry did not recognize trailed after Sirius and Remus. The werewolf was staring at the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with enough venom to shock Harry.

"Letters, you old hag, do _not_ explain _your_ behavior! How dare you use corporal punishment on Harry – a declared Dark corporal punishment that was banned over a century ago! You have no right, you wench!"

"My duties, as outlined by the Minister's orders –"

"You will never touch him again!"

"As my right," she continued on, glaring right back at Sirius. "I will discipline Mr. Potter as I please!"

"The hell you will!" Sirius reached back and dragged the nameless man forward. "You tell her, Fortin."

The startled man drew himself to his full height and straightened his robe. "As per the by-laws of the Ministry's Dark Arts Law, subsection 302, paragraph J, I am hereby delivering to you your cease and desist letter, as well as a restraining order, to be viewed and judged by his Honor Brackcourt on the twenty-fifth of this month."

"You wouldn't dare!" The woman shrieked.

"Oh, you bet I dare!" Sirius roared right back.

"Judge Brackcourt hasn't tried a case in a decade!"

"Tough!" Sirius planted his hands onto the Head Table with enough force to make the teacher's plates jump. "Now, _move_."

"I will _not_, I am a professor here –"

"As per the writ of protection," the law wizard cut in. "You have no other recourse but to leave. The law will not allow you to stay in the same residence as the victim. You may, of course, file a complaint, but until the court date on the twenty-fifth, you must abide by the Ministry's law."

"Victim? Victim? That lying little scamp isn't a _victim_, he's the one hurting others, he's the one putting us all into mortal peril and our souls into –"

"Enough!" Sirius roared, shocking the room to silence. "Move," he snarled. Umbridge fled. Dumbledore rose from his seat, giving Sirius a troubled look as he trailed after the fleeing woman.

Sirius spun on his heel. "You," he stabbed a finger at Harry. "Come with me, _now_."

**qpqp**

Harry followed the animagus out into the chilly hall as Remus saw the law wizard to the apparition point of Hogwarts. Harry wished Remus had stayed – Sirius was _livid_.

"You – you – you," Sirius ran a hand through already messy hair, pacing the width of the hall. Draco had been told by an irate Sirius to stay where he was. None of the Slytherin table had taken that well. Ginny had also been told to stay behind as well. "Harry, you're supposed to _tell_ me these things!"

"But I couldn't."

"You were being injured by one of your professors and you never _said_ anything! Harry! You're not supposed to hurt yourself like that!"

"But I couldn't…"

"And you were sitting with Malfoy! Don't think I didn't see that, young man! How you got Ginny to cover for you, I don't know, but it will stop, this instant, do you hear me? Merlin knows what kind of crap he's convinced you of –," Sirius turned on the ball of his foot, causing Harry to shrink back as the animagus rounded on him. "Was he the one, Harry?'

"He, who – what?"

"Did Malfoy tell you not to tell me about being hurt? Did he fill your head with some sort of persecuted nonsense –"

"Of course not!" Harry cried.

"Then why didn't you tell me!"

"Because you wouldn't have believed me!" Harry rocked back onto his heels at the words that came out of his mouth.

"Of course I would have!"

"No," Harry shook his head. "You wouldn't have been able to see it, you would have said I was _lying_ again." His eyes felt hot and his throat tight. "You would have threatened me with Fondorn again."

"_Threatened_ you? Harry, what kind of nonsense –"

"You were supposed to believe _me_!" Harry shouted at the man. "Not that bloody Healer who doesn't know a damn thing, me! Your _godson_. My word was supposed to be better than his, but you never listened!"

"Harry Potter, that is enough!"

"No! I refuse to shut up!" Harry was shaking, light headed from rage and relief. He refused to be silent. Not anymore. "I see _gods_, Sirius! I meet people, creatures, _legends_ in the Otherworld! I've been there and you think I'm lying! I keep trying to tell you something is _wrong,_ but you won't listen! You won't listen and you make that _idiot_ treat me, and make me _worse_ and I won't do it anymore!"

"Harry," Sirius looked stricken.

"You never ask about the dreams where I wake up screaming," Harry felt hot tracks on his face, but didn't care. "You never asked what the _Dursleys_ did to me – no, it was always the _Malfoys_ who did this to me – they were the ones who _helped_ me! They were the ones to get me out of the hell that was the Dursleys! They treated me normally, like I wasn't some freak! They –"

"Enough," Sirius raised one shaking hand. Harry's heart squeezed, both in hope and dread. Sirius was _so pale_…"Harry…what have they _done_ to you?" Sirius shook his head. "Oh, Harry…You're _not_ a Seer, Harry, your family has never had the trait." He took a hold of Harry's shoulders as the younger man stared up into the animagus' face. "You went through a terrible ordeal, and I'm _sorry_ I wasn't there for you, kiddo. But I promise, I _promise_, we'll figure this out, okay? Everything – it's all just – I'll _help_ you, Harry, I promise…"

That was the last thing Harry heard before the pull of the portkey yanked his feet out from under him and the world went dark.

End Chapter Forty-One


	42. Chapter 42:The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Chapter Forty-Two: The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Harry made a face at the taste in his mouth. His head felt funny; he tried to raise one hand to rub at his eyes, but found his wrist strapped down.

Breath escaped him in a whimper. He jerked at his legs, but they were secured as well. He forced open his eyes, squinting at the bright lights, the white walls, white sheets, white everything.

Sounds echoed oddly in his ears. He heard the door open and the swift click of heels on the tile floor. "The patient is awake, Healer Fondorn," a woman's voice said. "Shall I gather the equipment?"

"Yes, please, Marsha. Thank you." The man's voice neared, causing Harry to squirm on the bed. The room was starting to resolve into clarity; whatever drugs that had been in his system fading bit by bit.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Fondorn appeared next to the bed, his large hand resting on the metal guardrail that the restraints were attached to.

"You can go to hell," Harry's tongue felt clumsy in his mouth, still lethargic.

The man's smug smile grew by a fraction. "Now, now, Mr. Potter. I am the head Healer for your case. Any good Slytherin should know that antagonizing the man in charge is bad business."

Harry's jaw hurt from clenching it. "Let me _go_."

"Don't you remember, Mr. Potter? We've already had this conversation."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but caught up short when murky memories began to burble up to the surface of his mind. Sirius had come to Hogwarts. He had yelled at Umbridge – and the he – and then he had –

Harry writhed on the bed as the memories slammed into his head with the touch of the Healer's wand. Sirius had had a port key. Remus had _left him_ with the animagus, knowing he had a port key. The werewolf had joined them later – later – when – when Sirius had – had –

Had taken Harry straight to St. Mungo's, to where Fondorn had been waiting, patient like a gargoyle on the steps, watching their approach. Harry had fought his godfather, fought and wriggled and scratched and begged for the man to let him go, told the man that he would be good, he would be perfect, just wanting Sirius to _stop_, to turn around and take him away from Fondorn's smile and Fondorn's glittering _eyes_…

The Healer had injected something into Harry the moment he was close enough to touch. Harry had lost control of his body then, arms and legs dangling, but mind awake and screaming. He mumbled in tongues and baby-speak, mind attempting to stop the nonsense babble, but unable, unsure as to what the _hell_ was going on and terrified because he _could not move_.

Sirius had done nothing but hold Harry's hand while Fondorn made the animagus sign sheet after sheet of hospital forms. Sirius had paid little attention to what he was signing, content with crooning at Harry that everything would be all right, that Sirius would fix everything, that he would make Harry healthy and whole again…

The worst part, even as tears had leaked out from Harry's eyes and soaked the thin mattress they had him strapped to, was that Harry could _see_ that Sirius believed what he was saying, that he believed that committing Harry would cure him of whatever ailment Fondorn had told him of that time.

All the remaining trust Harry had left intact for the animagus had shattered in that instant. The small hope that had sheltered in his heart had withered and blown away like ash on the wind. That was when he had started screaming, when Remus had arrived, amber eyes sorrowful, but resolute, when Harry knew, _knew_, that there would be no heroes to save him that time.

There had been a rush of nurses and all the while Fondorn, standing there with a large hand on Sirius' shaking shoulders, the animagus' wail of _"I've failed you, James!"_ being the last thing Harry remembered before the drugs pulled him under.

Fondorn pulled his wand away from Harry's temple and the memories stopped. He lay there, panting for breath and trying not to cry.

"I thought…you were just a…regular Healer," Harry managed.

Fondorn's smile grew a little more. "I have passed all the necessary requirements for this position."

"Legally?"

"Now, now, such cheek. Sirius had been telling me of your progress and I had hopes you would need little reprogramming. Keep this up…" The healer shrugged.

Harry's stomach felt like he had swallowed a lead ball. "What reprogramming?"

"Why, Mr. Potter, don't get ahead of yourself," Fondorn tutted. "We have much to wade through before we reach that stage of your recovery."

"Wade through what? Wait –," Harry was cut off by the nurse returning. She held a tray full of vials and other sharp, needle-like instruments. A bevy of other Healers were clustered near the door, like starving hounds waiting at the gate for fresh meat.

"Yes, of course," Fondorn picked up one of the long, thick needles. "You are the last living case of a person who has taken the Vision Potion and survived." Fondorn touched a familiar-looking vial. Harry's bones turned to ice. "We need to test your spinal fluids for their current levels and, of course, run more tests." A hint of teeth showed in the man's smile. "We have much work to do, Mr. Potter, and no time to waste. Your godfather signed a forty-eight hour hold for us, but that was all. He will insist on being here for your _recovery_ and we cannot subject one of our highest paying contributors to such…experiments."

Harry took a breath to scream bloody murder. The nurse slapped a sweet-smelling rag over his mouth and nose, causing him to choke and cough. His screams were muffled by the rag, the whimpers dying away as the other Healers flooded into the room. The goddess' dark laughter, the last Otherworldly creature he could remember, echoed in his ears.

**qpqpqpqp**

Slytherin House was abuzz with activity. Dumbledore stood to one side of the hearth, watching as Harry's housemates scrambled to do what they could for their missing friend.

Sirius had picked the best time to take the boy, Albus admitted with a sigh. Albus had not been aware of the animgus' plans until he had disappeared, activating a portkey that should not have been able to work on Hogwarts' grounds and, yet, still had.

Slytherin House had exploded into action once the alarm had been raised. Lupin had left the grounds before Albus could question him. Only when word had come through a contact of Madam Pomfrey's had they learned where Harry had been taken.

No one at the Ministry could be reached. All offices had been closed by the time Sirius had acted. Harry was under a forty-eight hour hold, their contact had said. Not even Sirius could break the poor boy out of there now.

Albus remembered how young Draco's face had looked when he had asked Severus if they could bribe the Healers, a janitor, anyone, to get Harry out of the mental ward. Albus also remembered how old Severus had looked when he had dashed the children's hopes to the ground. There would be no easy escape for his dark haired lad this time.

_Do be sensible_, Albus, his conscious scolded. _You knew this was a possibility when you gave the boy the Vision Potion – even before then. Harry has been your redeemer for Tom and Grindelwald – no use in fooling yourself now, old man_.

Albus felt his age that Saturday afternoon. The few windows that the dungeon allowed showed a bleak gray sky and heavy snow, snow so thick the teachers kept the students inside all day. The chill permeated the castle – even the roaring fires in the Slytherin common room could not dispel the cold.

Lucius Malfoy had arrived before sunset, porcelain white with rage, a vision of what young Draco would look like given enough time. The Slytherins were in the middle of a planning session – nothing had been accomplished the Friday night that Harry had disappeared. They had all returned with vigor the next morning, all of them throwing out ideas as to how to get Harry back from the hospital's clutches. They were in the middle of a brainstorming session when Draco clutched at his head and emitted a muted scream. He doubled over, forehead to table, as the others panicked around him. Lucius' hand was so tight on his wand his knuckles had blanched white.

Albus strode forward as Draco struggled for breath and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Albus chased off the hovering students, but allowed Lucius to stay – as if he could have gotten the old viper to move from his son's side. Albus placed one hand on the crown of Draco's head and let the excess magic around him go. It created a gentle wind in the room, an almost audible hush. Draco went limp, caught by his father before he could slide to the floor in a boneless heap.

Severus' eyes were wide as he guided Albus to a seat. He was shaken, perhaps too old for such heroic gestures – even the elder Malfoy watched their progress with eyes a touch wide, even as he clutched Draco to his chest.

"Albus?"

He blinked, realizing that Severus had been speaking to him. "Ah, I am an old man, Severus. I will be fine."

"Are you sure?"

Albus' gaze landed on Draco. He felt the temporary bond between them, the thick rope that connected Draco's spirit to his body, bonded with Albus' own magic and boosted, thrown out as a lifeline to a boy they all cared about. Draco's cry of jubilation had been silent to the rest of the room, but as loud as a dragon's roar in Albus' mind. The blond was gone in a flash, shattering wards and ancient barriers in his wake.

"It will be all right, Severus. Young Mr. Malfoy has a healthy constitution – he will be fine," he paused a moment to breathe, feeling the push and drag of air in his lungs. "We, however," he turned to the Potions Master hovering at his side. "We have much to do, Severus."

"We do?"

"Ah, yes." He held onto Severus' hand as he rose, feeling the world tilt a little on its axis. "We cannot let young Mr. Potter stay where he is. Draco shall only be able to stay with him for a short amount of time. We must prepare."

"Are you –"

"My approval was necessary for Sirius' decision to commit young Harry to the ward. I cannot take Harry from the hospital until Monday morning – which we _shall_ do as dawn breaks and the hold is legally cancelled. Then we shall strip Sirius of his guardian rights." It hurt Albus to say it. "I had hoped Sirius would not come to this. I had hoped he would see the light."

"Sirius Black could be bathed in the light and he would still be too blind to see it," Severus snarled.

Albus sighed, but refrained from chiding the younger wizard – they were all still young men to him. Young men he had failed, in so many ways.

"Come," he said instead. "We have much to do and I'm afraid I shall need your help with most of it."

"Of course, Albus," Severus said. "We'll help Harry every way we can."

_I know you will, my boy_, Albus closed his eyes for a moment. _I know you will_.

**qpqpqpqp**

The world was shattered; Harry huddled in one corner of his mind, the last bit of his sanity that he had managed to cobble together, hands pressed over his ears and eyes screwed shut. It was the only way to block it out.

The Healers had forced another dose of the Vision Potion into his system…he thought, but wasn't sure. There had been a host of other potions, but Harry had been half-blind from the pain of the needles extracting spinal fluid to notice which ones were forced down his throat or injected into his veins.

If it _was_ the Vision Potion – then he had either acquired an immunity to it or it was poorly made. He had tried to slip himself into the Otherworld – anything to escape the pain – but found his way out blocked.

Perhaps that was what the other potion was for, Harry worked his jaw, the phantom taste of strawberries and molasses lingering in his mouth. Instead of fleeing to safety, Harry had found himself trapped in his own mind as the Healers worked over his body in shifts.

It was strange to think he had never been there before, at least not consciously. He remembered Voldemort's mind, the way the walls were tacky with thoughts and memories, the way the thought tendrils would wind their way through the air like clouds of smoky incense.

Harry's mind was different. When he had first tried to escape from the Healer's agonizing hands and spells, he had found himself in a small, dark space. Cramped, curled into a ball, his heart had thundered in his chest until he had realized that nothing had attacked him. Yet.

When he had gathered enough courage to reach out and explore the area, his eyes had gone wide with shock. He'd reached up and found the dangling string, as he had expected. A sharp tug and the cheap bulb filled the Cupboard Under the Stairs with weak yellow light.

It was not what he had been expecting.

At first, it was fine. Harry had tried the door to the Cupboard and found it unlocked. Instead of exiting out into the Dursley household, however, the door had opened up to the Slytherin common room – that wasn't quite right. It had the Slytherin colors, the mirrors on the walls and the double giant fireplaces, but bits and pieces of the Gryffindor common room were there as well. The low table where he and Ron had played countless games of wizard's chess was pushed up against the hazy picture of a Christmas tree – the first one he had seen in the common room when he was a first year and had gotten presents from Ron's family for no reason except that he was their son's friend and that they cared.

Pushing those painful memories away, Harry had explored the curious combination of rooms. There was one door that led out to a hall that was the exact replica that led to the Headmaster's office – but he had not dared to step foot out of the room. He had been wracked with terror the moment he had opened the door, teeth chattering as his body shook – he wasn't sure if it was the Healers or his own sense of preservation that kept him from that hall. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

The mirrors had started to show Harry what was happening to his real body after a while. There was much of Fondorn and blood – Harry couldn't figure hot why everything had to be _bloody_ with him. But he guessed if they had fed his body another Vision Potion, then he was probably reacting the same way as he had before and all the other times.

It always surprised him how much blood a body could hold.

It was when the room had started to crack that Harry had began to worry. The first cracks he had missed; they ran across the vaulted ceiling, out of easy to spot access. Then the one that came that had gotten Harry's attention – there had been a rumble and then a tremendous _crack_ as the largest mirror in the room splintered from one corner to the next. It had stayed in its gilt frame, even as one after the other mirrors had began to shatter. It wasn't until all of them were ruined that the pieces had started to fall out.

After the frames were empty, the walls had started to buckle. Strange things, wild shouts and moaning sobs had whispered their way into the room. Harry thought he had seen fingers, sometimes ghosts, sometimes spiders, crawling at the edges, looking for a way in.

Harry had backed into the Cupboard Under the Stairs and pulled the door shut tight behind him. On one level he knew it was dangerous – but another part of him was more terrified of the strange images – his, he knew – that were taking shape in the outer room.

He was losing his mind and he knew it.

So he had clapped his hands over his ears to block out the screams – part memory and part hallucination from the things he _had_ seen, and scrunched his eyes shut so he would not have to watch as the Healers literally shattered his world around him.

The door to his Cupboard rattled. Harry drew his knees to his chest, pressed as far into the corner of the closet as he could fit. The door rattled again, with more force. He thought he heard his name being called – but attributed it to another chimera his mind had conjured up from its darkest depths.

The door gave another violent rattle, and then cracked, one hinge hanging loose. Harry tucked his forehead to his knees and gave a small whimper. If he was lucky, it would be fast.

"Harry?" A voice said instead. Harry froze. His mind couldn't – it _wouldn't_ be so cruel as to – "Oh, Harry, what have they done to you?" Gentle hands touched his arms, causing him to jump and attempt to merge with the wall at his back.

"Harry? Harry, please, I know you probably think I'm a – a dream or whatever they are doing to you, but I'm _not_," hands tugged at him, trying to get him to look up. There was a roar – it sounded like a cross between an irate Ron and Voldemort – and the whole place shook.

"Piss off!" The familiar voice snarled. Harry heard a muffled commotion as he was rocked to the side as a body collided with his. He opened his eyes.

Draco had his back to Harry's shins, his feet holding the Cupboard door closed. A wand was held tight in his hand. He aimed and fired a curse that hit the broken door and held it against whatever was trying to get in.

"D-Draco?" Harry clutched at his knees. He felt dizzy, a little sick to his stomach. His eyes felt odd, from being squeezed shut for so long.

The blond turned so he faced Harry. He lunged forward, startling a squeak from the dark haired boy, squashing them into the corner, knocking the breath from them both.

Harry wound his arms around Draco's neck. "H-Hi," he hated the hesitancy, the stutter, but his world was falling apart at the seams. He couldn't even fight against it.

"Harry," Draco said into the soft skin of his throat. Harry shifted so they weren't as squished. It wasn't a very big cupboard for one growing boy, much less two. "Are you all right?"

Harry snorted, the laughter bubbling up before the rage could force the scream from his lungs. "No," he said, catching his breath between giggles. "I don't think so."

Draco drew back to stare into his face. The weak bulb had stuttered out sometime when Harry had had his eyes shut. Draco's light spell bathed them in blue witchlight, causing the Malfoy heir to look even paler than his normal complexion.

That struck Harry as funny, too. He stuffed his hand over his mouth in an attempt to control his laughter. He could feel his eyes begin to tear – but from hilarity or hysteria, he wasn't sure.

Draco reached out and touched Harry's cheek. "You…" He let it trail off into a sigh. "Can you tell me what they've done, so far?"

Harry risked dropping his hands from his mouth. "It's really you, right?"

"Yes, Harry. It's really me."

Harry reached out and took handfuls of the blond's shirt, using it to anchor his queasy stomach. "I – I'm not too sure what they're up to now. B-Before," he gulped own an unsteady breath. "Before, Fondorn wanted to run tests on me." He swallowed hard. "They p-put needles into my spine to get fluid. They were testing something, I don't remember."

Draco inched closer to him, curling around Harry so his body was between the door and the dark haired boy.

"I – I think they wanted to dose me with the Vision Potion again," Harry continued, feeling the other boy tense at the mention of the Dark potion. "But s-something went wrong – or maybe right, I don't know – the nurse put this rag over my face and everything went really blurry. They gave me other potions, but I tried to get away, you know? Slip into the Otherworld, but I ended up here instead."

"It's the wards here," Draco ran a soothing hand along Harry's arm. "They keep spirits away and in, it seems."

Harry shuddered. "When I first came here, I was here, then I went out there," he nodded at the door. "It was a mix of the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms. I – I couldn't leave. There was a door, b-but I was so scared to go out and I don't know why…"

Draco shook his head as their light gave out. "It doesn't matter now, Harry. I'm here. I don't know for how much longer, but I'm here and I'll protect you. I swear."

"D-don't make vows you can't keep."

"Harry…"

"How'd you get here?" He interrupted the blond.

"The Headmaster," Draco shifted against the hard cement ground of the cupboard. "Blimey, Harry. Where _are_ we?"

"My cupboard. What do you mean, the Headmaster? How'd the Headmaster send you _here_?"

"He's the Headmaster, Harry. And what do you mean, _my cupboard_?"

"It's my cupboard," Harry blew out a sharp breath. "It was my bedroom growing up, the place where I was safe, all right? _How_ did the Headmaster get you here, Draco? Don't avoid the question."

"Harry…" Draco's hands tightened on Harry's arms and then relaxed. "Never mind. The Headmaster knows we're connected, right?"

"Yes, but you said the wards…"

"He's the Headmaster, Harry. He's the strongest wizard _ever_. He connected his will, his power, to mine. We had found out where you were. The Headmaster gave me the boost I'd need to clear the wards. Merlin, I probably shattered them."

The rumbles and screams had died away from the other room. "You think so?" Harry rested his head against Draco's shoulder.

"It would have the Healers distracted. Of course, if they could ever prove it was Dumbledore who wrecked the protections…"

"They'd arrest him?"

"They could _try_," there was a note of awe in Draco's tone. "I've never thought much of the old man, but Merlin, Harry. He let go of his shields and it was like you couldn't breathe, the magic was so thick."

Harry let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, that's the Headmaster."

"Hey," Draco wound an arm around Harry's middle, settling them more comfortably. "So why are we here, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are we in your…cupboard?"

"It was the safest place I had." Harry let out a stuttering breath. "I guess my mind still thinks it is, too. Aunt Petunia couldn't reach me in the corner and Uncle Vernon couldn't fit inside, so I was safe."

Draco's arm tightened around him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's saved me so far. Now you're here and it can save both of us."

"Hey, now. I'll protect you just fine, thank you."

Harry huffed a laugh into Draco's shoulder. "It's rather funny, though."

"What is?"

"We're here in the dark, in what could be called a closet."

"What?"

"…I really need to educate you in some muggle sayings."

"What are you on about now?"

Harry swallowed down another laugh. "Forget it," he said instead.

Silence settled around them. Harry listened to the familiar creaks and groans of the cupboard, remembering years past when the sound of the house settling down would be his cue to finally, finally relax and let go.

"Draco?"

"Yes, Harry?"

The thought had been festering in his mind since meeting the nameless goddess and it had been his lonely companion before Draco had came. And now that he had Draco here…

"Harry?"

"There's something wrong."

"Here? Now?" Draco tensed.

"No, not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"Feathers."

"…Feathers?"

"I keep seeing feathers and people keep giving them to me. I think something has happened to the Morrigan."

"Are you sure? Has she come to talk to you again?"

"Not for a while, which is weird. But she was hunting for something, Draco, and if it found her first…We all _know_ something is wrong, but it's like we've gotten stuck in a rut and nothing's _happening_."

"I know, Harry."

"And I think," Harry drew in a breath. "I think I've been just as bad about it. The goddess – the one that came to me last – she said the Path I was on was fading, that the Paths all over were fading."

"…Fading?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "That's one more thing, don't you see? The gods are waking up, but that means _all _gods are waking up, even the bad ones."

"You think we're up against a god, Harry?"

"What else could it be?" He shivered, moving closer to Draco. "The goddess – she said she saw a future that shattered, that broke and wiped everything out. She said she saw me blind myself and run into the Dark."

Draco growled under his breath. "I won't let that happen, Harry. I _won't_."

"It will happen if you die," Harry felt oddly calm.

"I will not die, Harry."

"I think we've been going at it all wrong," he turned his cheek against Draco's shirt.

"Going – what?"

"We need a change."

"Change what? Harry, you're making no sense. What are you talking about?"

Harry blinked in the dark, seeing the strands flash and shudder in front of his eyes. "Everything," he said. "We need to change everything."

**qpqpqpqp**

Sirius paced outside St. Mungo's, checking his watch every other step. The hospital was closed on Sundays to all visitors and he had stayed as long as he had been allowed on Saturday.

He had not wanted to send Harry to the mental ward. He absolutely had _not_ wanted it to come to such an extreme. But the boy, his kiddo, was so messed _up_ inside…He paused in his relentless pacing, shoulders sagging as he sighed. He had failed James so much, he couldn't even meet his own eyes in the mirror.

Fondorn had warned him. Had given him articles and essays from journals the Healer proscribed to. Sirius hadn't wanted to believe him, had not wanted to think that Harry was going mad – mad from too many years as the solo hero, the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who had to do everything alone. The press was having a field day – Remus was ready to strangle most of the news rags for their vicious articles about Harry and the so-called reasons they had had him 'committed'. They hadn't had the boy _committed_, it wasn't _that_ bad, not yet, Fondorn would have told them if it was that bad, right?

Remus had been angry with him for not reading all the papers he had to sign, but he'd told Moony, he _had _to get Harry treatment. Fondorn was on their side, he wouldn't let anything happen to Harry, Fondorn had always looked out for Sirius, he trusted the older man with his life. Even if he didn't agree with the Healer, but still, a Healer had to be objective about things, unemotional – Fondorn couldn't risk an emotional attachment to Harry and now Sirius was beginning to realize _why_. His kiddo was so tangled up inside he probably didn't even _know_ he was hurting. Sirius wanted to smack himself in the head – he should have listened to Fondorn in the fall and all of this, everything, could have been avoided.

The predawn air was bitterly cold, but Sirius' charmed coat and gloves kept the worst of it away. There was no one on the street in front of the hospital – Sirius was relieved. He was afraid there might have been press and the last thing his kiddo needed was more harpy reporters clamoring for his attention, demanding answers for things Harry had no possible way of knowing.

Honestly, the rate of sightings of gods had risen over the months. Ancient shrines to Greek gods had risen out of the Mediterranean Sea. Temples in Egypt, Syria, even China, had been discovered, some even destroying whatever newer complexes that had settled over the ancient sites. The muggle world was in an uproar. The wizarding world was divided. People were still disappearing from muggle London – and all the reporters could think to write was that Harry – his frail, sick little kiddo – somehow had a hand in all of it. He hated them all with a passion – it was partly their fault Harry had this little complex of his that Fondorn had deducted. Sirius clenched his teeth, feeling them grind together. Harry's _housemates_ certainly had not helped, either. Sirius knew the Malfoys, he knew Snape. They would push and push Harry until they got him right where they wanted him. They would never take no for an answer.

Then there was that Defense Against the Dark Arts professor – _Umbridge_. A Slytherin if he had ever seen one – she'd had no right, no _right_ to use corporal punishment on Harry. Sirius had sent the Headmaster an angry letter – too pissed and too worried about Harry to go there himself. He knew, he just _knew_ Snape was behind the whole thing. He _had_ to be. If the Malfoys and the whole Slytherin House really cared that much about Harry, then why had they not helped him? Why had they let him get injured in the first place? Sirius could guess at an answer; the more Harry was hurt, the more vulnerable he became – the more malleable he became. Sirius could just _bet_ Snape had planned it all from the moment Sirius had rescued Harry from the Malfoy Manor that summer. Snape needed Harry hurt to reshape his mind. Fondorn had been the one to connect it all, to show them the plan from step to step. Remus had been forced to go out onto the Black Grounds to destroy some old tree stumps to cool down his anger. Sirius had taken out his own ire on the shrieking portraits in the upstairs picture gallery.

He _needed_ to see Harry. He had vowed to James to take care of his son, to care for him, to protect him – and he had failed, failed so many times and so many ways. This time he _would_ get it right. He would be there for Harry, every step of the way. He would stay with the boy every second they let him in the hospital. Sirius would make sure his kiddo got the gold plate treatment. No expense would be too much – he had to get this right. He had to save Harry, even if it was from himself.

The soft chimes of the bells on the clock tower began to ring. A thrum went through the animagus. The hospital would open its doors the second after the bells stopped chiming. He was minutes away from seeing Harry.

The last bell chimed. Sirius whirled to face the doors of St. Mungo's – and found his feet glued to the pavement in shock.

Albus Dumbledore stood in front of the doors, dressed in the most somber robe Sirius could ever remember the wizard wearing. The expanse of black was stark, making the bushy beard even more prominent.

"Albus?" Sirius found his feet and took a step forward. "What's wrong? Why are you here?"

"Ah, Sirius," the Headmaster looked frail in the cold morning pre-dawn. The weak yellow light from the street lamps created shadowy hallows on the old wizard's cheeks. "I am so disappointed in you, my boy."

"W-what?" Sirius rocked back on his heels. "What do you mean?"

Before the Headmaster had a chance to answer, the sharp sound of someone running broke into the tense atmosphere. Sirius turned to see Remus pelting up to him. "Moony?"

"Sirius!" Remus skidded into the animagus. A bundle of papers were in his left fist. His wand was in his right.

"Remus?"

"They've taken him away!" The werewolf's fists hit Sirius' shoulders. "They've declared us unfit guardians and they've taken Harry away!"

"What?" Sirius turned to the Headmaster, who had not moved from his spot at the door. "You did this, didn't you? You've _never_ wanted Harry to get better, you –"

"Sirius Black," Albus Dumbledore intoned, making both younger wizards shrink back. "You have done a terrible thing. You have broken Harry's trust for the last time. Yes, I have taken Harry from your care. I should never have allowed him to enter your care in the first place, not if I had known…" Dumbledore sighed, looking all of his years for one long moment. From behind his back he brought forth a stack of papers. "Before you howl and scream, young Sirius, I want to you to read these papers, these tests and plans your trusted Healer Fondorn had in his private office. Along with those records are the reports of what young Harry has been forced to endure here, at your insistence."

"But…"

"No," Dumbledore's free hand slashed through the air. "No excuses this time, Sirius. I will not hear them." He paced down the handful of steps between them, thrusting the folders to the animagus' chest. Sirius took them on autopilot, mind still reeling from shock.

"But I – where's Harry? What do you mean – you _can't_ take him from me! Not now! I've failed him, Albus! I've failed James yet _again_! This was supposed to –"

"Yes, you _have_ failed him, but it was Harry who you have really failed, not James," Dumbledore cut in. "You have failed him in more ways than you will ever know. Harry Potter is now my ward and will stay at Hogwarts until he comes of age. Any attempts by you to see him must be forwarded through to me for approval."

"You can't _do_ this!"

"Yes, Sirius, I can." Dumbledore frowned down at them, the bushy eyebrows shading the blue eyes and hiding the non-existent twinkle. "This should have never have come this far, Sirius. All you had to do was trust Harry, was that too much to ask?"

"But…"

Albus didn't stay to hear Sirius' protest. The animagus watched the old wizard walk away, not even glancing back at his frantic calls. Remus began tugging on his arm, trying to get him to move. Sirius recognized the growing crowd that was gathering on the street. A few flashes went off – Remus turned and began shouting at the reporters. It was all white noise in Sirius' ears.

_I've failed_, was all he could think or hear. _Oh, James. I've failed you again!_

End Chapter Forty-Two


	43. Chapter 43: Captured

Chapter Forty-Three: Captured

Neville tapped on the door, juggling the hot cups of tea, trying not to spill. "Harry?" He cocked his head to the door. "It's me, Neville. May I come in?"

He thought he heard a muffled yes and jiggled the handle open. He nudged the door wide with a foot and slipped into the darkened room.

Draco had been gone from his body for over an entire day. When the blond had come back, he'd spent the hour he was conscious in the toilet, vomiting. Then he had passed out, much to everyone's panic. Madam Pomfrey had declared it an episode of magical exhaustion and scolded them all for being too excitable.

Very few members of the House had left the dorms that weekend. Neville had spent the better part of his time writing to relatives he had not spoken to in years in hope to find some sort of leverage they could use to pry Harry from St. Mungo's early.

Their break had come from a cousin of Millicent's, a young law wizard who had agreed early on to look at the documents that Sirius Black and the hospital had to file with the Ministry. A bribe in the right place had them copies of the automated records within hours of their figuring out where Harry had been taken. They had found a loop hole in the admissions forms, where they could tear apart the involuntary hold and take Harry from the hospital immediately, with or without an official writ from the Ministry. The break had come late in the evening on Sunday – rather very, very early Monday morning. Few of the older year Slytherins had gotten sleep that weekend. Their Head of House had arranged it so they could eat in the common room, away from the riot of speculation and gossip that had infested the rest of the school since Harry had been taken. Most of them had collapsed into their beds when Professor Snape went with the Headmaster to retrieve Harry. Neville had fallen asleep on the couch by the time they had returned, just after dawn. All of them were excused form that day's classes.

Draco was still in the Infirmary when Neville had woken. Harry had been taken to his room to rest. It hadn't taken long for Draco's messages to reach the dorms via Madam Pomfrey – _don't let Harry be alone_. Draco wouldn't say why.

So Neville had taken it upon himself to keep Harry company until the Malfoy heir was released from the Infirmary.

"Harry?" The room was lit just by the fire roaring on the hearth. The bed was empty – Neville set the thick mugs of tea on the small table near the fire. The chairs were empty, so was the desk, except…

Neville knelt down and peered under the bed. He swallowed the startled yelp that wanted to escape his throat when he came face to face with the other boy.

"Harry?" He asked when he figured his voice wouldn't crack out of fear.

"Hello, Neville." Harry was curled up on his side, a blanket wrapped around his body and a pillow clutched tight to his chest.

"Ah, I brought some tea."

"Thank you, Neville."

Neville glanced around the room, lost as to what to do. "You need to come out of there, Harry," he finally settled on. A voice that sounded like his Gran spurred him on. "Hiding from it won't make it all go away."

Green eyes stared at him. "Neville…" Harry trailed off with a sigh.

Neville stared back at him. "No, Harry," he said. "I won't let you slip away like my Mum and Dad. You have to fight this, Harry, this black feeling you have, weighing you down. You can't give in," he set his jaw. "We won't let you give in."

Time stretched between them as Harry continued to stare. Then, a tiny smile curled the other boy's mouth. "Never change, will you?" Harry let go of the pillow and propped his chin up with a dusty palm.

"Huh?" Was Neville's answer.

Harry's smile grew. Neville could see fine lines appearing around the boy's eyes – lines that had not been there days before. "Shove over then," Harry said, wiggling out of his hiding place. Neville held the comforter for him as he crawled free.

Neville was a little confused as to how he'd gotten the other boy out from under the bed, but decided not to question it. If it worked, then it worked, as Blaise was fond of telling him.

"Here," Neville handed Harry one of the mugs once they had settled in on the chairs near the hearth. They had yet to light any of the lamps – the warmth of the fire and the dimness of the room made it feel cozy instead of remote. Neville took a sip from his mug and studied Harry from under his lashes.

Harry did not look good. He was pale, but then he was always pale. The dark bags under his eyes were not new, either. No, it was the way his skin seemed drawn over his bones, almost brittle-looking, like a drum drawn too taut and ready to crack. In the dim light, Harry's eyes were hard to name a concrete color – Neville knew they were green, had known they were green from first year on, but…In that moment, as the both of them drank their tea and watched the fire, Neville couldn't name the color of Harry's eyes. Too bright to be black, too dark to be anything else. It was an unsettling thought.

"So," Neville said to break the silence. "How – I mean, are you all right?"

Harry's cup checked its progress to his mouth. He had needed both hands to steady it. "Most people would ask me what happened first," he said.

Neville shrugged. "I'm not most people."

"True," Harry let the mug rest on his leg. "I…will be all right, I think."

"You think?"

Harry's lips pressed together as he shifted a look towards Neville and then away. "They shattered my mind," he said.

"They what?" Neville's question cracked between them like a whip. Harry flinched.

"They…" Harry's shoulders began to curl forward.

"I'm sorry," Neville blurted, one hand held out between them, but not daring to touch. "I'm a git, sorry, Harry. Didn't mean to yell." He knew better than to yell, even by accident. His parents sometimes reacted that way, when they had caught him by surprise with one of their outbursts.

Harry's shoulders straightened. "You're not a git, Neville," he fiddled with his mug. "They just…Fondorn's an ass," Harry's sudden snarl made Neville blink. "He was – is – a horrid, horrid man who should die screaming in a fire." Harry's fingers were bleached white from his stranglehold on his mug.

"Right," Neville said, blinking.

"All he wanted was to do tests on me," Harry's jaw worked a few times. He kept his gaze on the shifting tongues of flame in the fireplace. "Professor Snape has Auror Rayne coming as soon as he's free. I'm glad."

"Who?"

"Auror Rayne," Harry heaved a sigh. "He's one of the ones that escorted me to the Dursleys last year. He got worried for me and Professor Snape thought I'd do well to talk to the man about…things. He's got a degree in it, even."

"That's…good," Neville finished off the last of his tea. "Does it help?"

"To talk?" Harry shrugged and glanced at him. "Yes and no. I can feel angry and not be guilty about it, which makes it easier."

"Angry?"

"At Sirius," another shrug, this one short and choppy. "At – at Fondorn. At whatever I need or want to be angry at."

"…Oh."

"They –," Harry blew out a breath. "Never mind."

Neville shook his head. "It's all right, Harry. I don't mind."

Harry wet his lips. "Well, it started out like this…"

**qpqpqpqp**

"Harry?" Draco approached the figure sitting on one of the large boulders that lined the shore of the lake. He could see the ripples from the giant squid moving under the deep water – Severus had told them of the natural hot springs that existed somewhere in the depths of the lake, making it possible for the squid to stay alive during the long winter months.

Their winter term tests had been pushed back a week. They were due to start them after the weekend – Harry had been excused from classes while he healed from the tests that the healers at St. Mungo's had put him through. He would return to take the term tests, one each day for all of their classes. Their professors were kind to them that year. Umbridge was gone, leaving the Headmaster to fill her place – they had learned more during the one week of the woman's absence than they had during most of the preceding years – minus, he had to add for the sake of fairness, the year they had the werewolf teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Draco and the others had watched Harry over the long week of recovery. Severus had been frantic – a state that was hard to spy in the Potion Master's usually curt manner, but Draco could tell. He didn't blame the man. Draco, more than any of them, knew just how bad the situation had been, and still was, to a point.

Draco pushed the memories of their long vigil in the Cupboard Under the Stairs aside as he rounded the tall boulder. Harry was curled up at the top, knees pulled in tight to his chest, expression distant. It was becoming a familiar sight to them all.

"Harry?"

The other boy blinked, drawing in a breath. He turned and focused on Draco, something that seemed as though it took effort to accomplish. "Hello," Harry said.

Draco clambered up to sit next to the other boy. "Rayne just leave?"

"Yes, he waited until he saw you exit the castle."

They'd had Auror Rayne visiting almost every day. The young Auror had left the dorms the first few times shaking with rage. Harry had been venturing out the last few meetings, which Draco encouraged over Severus' dark mutterings – the less Harry felt trapped, the happier he was.

"I got a letter from Sirius today," Harry said. Draco curbed the instinct to snarl and demand the thing, just to set it on fire.

"Ah," was all he said instead.

"He wants to make things right," Harry frowned, his nose wrinkling as he stared out over the glassy surface of the lake.

"Was that what you wanted to talk to me about?" Draco mimicked Harry's pose. There was a warming spell surrounding the boulder, cutting down the bitter chill in the air.

"Not really," Harry sighed. "But I thought you should know."

"Thank you for telling me." That earned him a glanced and a wry smile.

"Don't look at me like that," Harry huffed out a laugh. "You of all people don't need to worry if I'll break. Go ahead and say what you want."

"He's a right git and I want to burn the bloody letter to ashes and sow the remains with salt."

"I think someone else needs to talk with Auror Rayne."

"I'm a Malfoy. We do not have therapy sessions. We break things instead."

"How's that working out for you?"

"Wonderfully. I've finally destroyed the last of great-great Aunt Mildred's china."

That earned Draco a real laugh. "Your father let you?"

"My father has been working on it since _he_ was in Hogwarts."

"That's a lot of china."

"Great-great Aunt Mildred was a strange, strange woman."

Harry laughed again, a few lines of tension easing from his face. "You'll have to introduce me to her portrait one day."

"I would be honored – but I'm not allowed near her. Father's orders. Perhaps the house elves can take you."

"I'd like that."

Draco studied the pale face across from him. Some of the shadows had faded from under Harry's eyes. The gaunt hollows of his cheeks had lessened. But there was still that odd brittleness to his aura that had most of the House walking on eggshells around him – especially Ginny Black. The younger witch had not said more than three words to Harry during the entire week – but Draco had to admit, Harry had said just as few back. Neither of them seemed to know what to do or say around each other any more.

"I was thinking," Harry said into the silence. "About feathers."

"And?"

"The Morrigan said to me that she knew this thing she was hunting, this god or whatever," Harry rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "So, I was thinking, maybe we could isolate the myths about the Morrigan and go from there?"

"Pansy and Millicent have already dragged Hermione to the library."

"Ah, good."

"Have you…seen anything?"

"…No, which worries me." Harry leaned into Draco's side. "I need to do something different than what we have been doing, but I don't know what or how."

"We'll find it, Harry. You know we will."

"I feel bad, taking people from their studies while I'm not there to help."

"You needed to heal. That's what friends are for, Harry. To help you."

"You have tests to study for."

"As do you."

Harry shook his head, a contemplative expression on his face. "No, Draco. I'm not sure if I do."

"What do you mean?"

"What profession do you think I should go into, then?" Harry tilted a glance at Draco. "I'm no good for the Auror program. I'm pants at just about everything else."

"You could teach."

"…Perhaps, perhaps," Harry let out a soft breath. Draco curled an arm around the other boy, content to hold him close.

"How much longer until Professor Snape comes to chase us back inside?"

"Long enough."

"Can we stay out here, then?"

"As long as you like."

**qpqpqpqp**

To Harry's surprise, it felt good to enter classes again. The world mended itself in bits and pieces as he walked down the halls flanked by his Housemates. It felt good to be doing something so normal again.

As he had expected, he did not perform exceptionally well on the tests. Most of the questions had him feeling lost – though he answered them to the best of his abilities. It did little to bolster his confidence about his career choices after schooling – if he even had a life after school – during his darker moments, Harry suspected Fate was out to crush him.

Still, it was nice to be doing something normal, even if it felt like something large and horrible was looming on the horizon. Harry had come to accept that even though he could not name that darkness that was gathering, something _was_ going to happen and he vowed to react this time and not sit passive as the events unraveled around him.

Thursday rolled around, bring with it the hardest of their practical exams – Transfiguration. All of them were wiped from the grueling tests. McGonagall gave the Houses no mercy on her exams.

They were collapsed in varying states of exhaustion by that afternoon in the common room. Harry had the small sofa to himself – Draco was sprawled out on the ground beneath him.

"That was bloody brutal," Blaise had an arm thrown over his eyes and his head in Neville's lap.

"I think I passed out at one point," Pansy rubbed at her eyes, making a face at the smear of mascara that ended up on her fingers. "McGonagall is a wretched, wretched woman. As if I'll ever need transfigurations!"

"You're going to be a decorator, right?" Neville asked.

"That's what I plan…why?"

Millicent threw one of the small couch pillows at the other girl. "You will most definitely need it, you airhead. They use the spells to transform the rooms to the client's choosing before marking down the changes."

"Oh, no!" Pansy's wail made them all chuckle. "I'm bloody doomed!"

"You were always doomed," Blaise squeaked as Neville poked him in the ribs. He rolled his head to the side, catching Harry's gaze. "Hey," Harry tensed at the gleam that entered Blaise's eye. "Future boy, how do you think we all did?"

There was a tense silence. Until that moment, none of his Housemates had dared tease him about the recent complications to his life.

"You," Harry felt Draco touch his arm. "You most definitely failed, Blaise. Worse than Pansy over there."

The burst of laughter cleared the tension from the air.

"Hey now!"

"Hey, Harry, do you think Pansy's little dream job will ever happen?" One of the other Seventh year girls who Harry did not know asked.

"Could happen," Harry winked at the blond girl. "If she passes McGonagall's class."

"Hey! Did I pass Ancient Runes?" Draco tugged at his arm.

"The future is cloudy. Ask later, after you've brought me chocolate."

"Hey, who do you think will win the Quidditch cup?" Another person called.

"Slytherin."

"How about how's going to win the House Cup?" Someone else called out.

"The Yanks."

It felt good to laugh again, Harry realized. The broken bits in his head still flared up from time to time, stealing small gasps between his chuckles, but still. Draco's warm hand curled around his, keeping him grounded, safe and warm in what remained of the steady part of his mind.

_It feels so good to laugh again_, Harry threw back his head as the rest of the House began to offer up their own visions of the future, each more outrageous than the next. _Merlin, let it last_.

**qpqpqpqp**

Draco woke from another intense dream, grasping at the sheets.

"You know, from this angle, those dreams sure look like something else."

Draco yelped and twisted on the bed. Harry stared back at him, half hidden by the deep shadows of the room.

"Harry?" He couldn't help the silly grin that threatened to spread across his face.

Harry moved forward, dressed just in his pajamas and crawled in between the sheets of Draco's bed.

"H-Harry?" Draco leaned back on his hands as Harry crawled over him to settle on his lap.

"Wings," the other boy said after a long moment where Draco tried to focus on everything but the boy on his lap.

"What – wings?"

Harry nodded, solemn and strange in the dim light of the room. "Wings," he repeated.

"I don't understand."

"You reach and reach, but you can't find them," he got a sleepy blink from Harry and the press of the other boy's hot palms against his cheeks. "You race and race and the edge of the cliff is coming, but you can't see it, not yet."

"Harry?"

Without warning, the dark haired boy slumped against Draco's chest. "Mmn," Harry murmured, causing Draco to shudder. "I'm so tired."

Draco curled an arm around Harry to keep him from falling over. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes with his free hand. He was still muddled by the dream, muscles still shaking in places. But…Harry's words did make sense. He did feel like he was straining, pushing forward, trying to grasp something that seemed just – just out of reach.

"Wings?" He directed his question to the dark head drooling on his chest. He got a soft sigh as an answer. "…Wonderful," he prodded Harry's side, but the other boy was out like a light. It took a bit of wriggling, and considerable concentration on things that were _not_ of Harry's body, before Draco got them laid out side by side on the bed.

"Wings, eh?" he asked the darkened canopy. The drowsy call of sleep was his only answer.

**qpqpqpqp**

Scrimgeour threw down the latest reports with a sigh. The headache that had been hounding him all week pounded right behind his eyes in time with his heartbeat. He massaged the bridge of his nose, but to no avail. The world felt like it was coming apart at the seams around him and he had no idea as to what to do.

The muggle world was nearing the brink of war. Scrimgeour had studied enough of that other, larger world to know what kind of danger lay in those muggles' hands. The disappearances were mounting up, all pregnant woman and children, sometimes snatched right from their homes in the greater London suburbs. The muggle police were at a loss. Protesters had surrounded some of the ancient sites. Old worshippers, new believers, they would clash with the protesters from time to time, causing riots and all sorts of other public disobedience. The world was a mess, terrified and confused and the muggles had no answer as to what was going on, much less why. That was where his job was growing tricky.

The other wizarding Ministers were urging for exposure of their world to the muggles. Some of the older royal lines already knew of their existence – a few of the German princes had asked for help, sending that part of the European magical community into chaos.

Scrimgeour was torn. He knew the danger that lay in letting the muggles muddle it out for themselves, but the years and years of tradition – and not to mention laws – that bound him from formal exposure to the normal human world was immense. Scrimgeour did not like muggles as a general rule – they were strange, alien creatures that used _things_ when magic was so much better. They polluted the world around them without care – and yet, and yet, many had argued that the muggles had a magic of their own; their strange _technology_ that let them see things far smaller than any spell could enhance and allowed them to travel to places that supposedly had no air to breathe. Rufus was still confused on that last point.

To add to his troubles, the bloody Potter brat was acting up again, sending the press into fits of gossip-induced raptures. The Daily Prophet alone had taken the boy's side in what seemed to be a never-ending war of speculation on what kind of Dark Wizard Harry Potter would turn out to be. Add to that the small weekend stint in St. Mungo's, which had most of the wizarding population of Britain convinced of the boy's insanity. Any stint at St. Mungo's was a stigma in the view of most witches and wizards, Scrimgeour knew it all too well. He'd seen it happen time after time when he had been the head of the Auror department.

Speaking of his old job, he scowled down at another report. Auror John Rayne was taking more leave days that he was authorized. Reports on the man's whereabouts pointed him to Hogwarts every time. Rufus could just imagine what kind of nonsense was going on. He _needed_ his Aurors to be focused on their jobs – and yet…and yet…He also needed that connection, however thin, to the bloody Boy-Who-Lived and his new guardian. Albus Dumbledore had burned a lot of bridges in taking Harry Potter on as his ward – but the old coot still had enough clout to make Rufus' life hell if he so chose.

"Sir?"

He glanced up at the aide that hovered in the doorway. Chase – Casey – Rufus could never remember the young man's name, despite the fact that the aide had been working for him for Merlin knew how long.

"Yes, er…Chris?"

"Colin, sir."

"Of course, do pardon me."

"Yes, sir, of course," the young man ducked his head and stepped into the room. "I have more files for you," he set them on a pile of reports from his still-loyal Aurors in the department. "Do you want them now, or…?"

"Later, please," Rufus waved a hand at the stack of paperwork in front of him. "I'm up to my neck in letters as it is."

"Of course, sir," Colin took up the stack of files and headed out the door at a quick pace. Rufus admired that about the young interns his office had found. Always so quick and eager to do their jobs.

He never noticed that the stack of papers that had been under the files was considerably less than they had been before Colin had retrieved his pile from the desk.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry came out of his normal dream with a gasp. He was not in his physical body – he had no problem discerning the two anymore. His spirit body was trapped, held in what felt like claws, suspended from some height in what he assumed was the air.

It was the Dark, he realized a panicked moment later. The shifting gloom was constricting around him, the panic coming not only from his own body, but from the semi-sentient thing that held him.

Harry did not understand the Dark. At times it tried to kill him, at other times it almost seemed to help him – either way, each time he met it alone he always came away injured. That was something else he was determined to change.

He struggled in its grasp, but it held on tight. The Dark began to lift, revealing a pocket – a something – a –

A pit, Harry squinted at the hazy outline. It was little more than a large hall, gray stone built out of the Dark, holding a pit and what looked like chains handing down from the ceiling. Harry sniffed – he's seen worse. The not-quite-right part of his mind chimed in that he could always be an interior decorator for the up and coming Dark Lords, should he survive to his majority. He'd certainly had enough exposure to know what was chic and what was just tacky.

Harry had gotten used to ignoring that not-quite-right part of his brain lately.

There were feathers everywhere. As he watched, held captive by the Dark, a bloody hand reached up from the pit, straining towards something Harry could not see. A scream echoed through the ether, sending chills down Harry's spine. He knew that scream.

It was the Morrigan.

Harry renewed his struggles against the Dark. He bent his will, his magic, everything against the nameless void that held him as a silent watcher. He would _not_ allow this to happen, not to her. He would _not_ –

The image began to distort around him. He heard shouting, a man's scream of denial and rage. He heard the crash of steel on steel. Harry wanted to beat his hands against the fading image, hook his fingernails into the fabric of the Dream and _pull_ it forward to see, to check, to pray that the man he had heard and glimpsed was not what he had thought he had seen.

Gwyn ap Nudd's piercing scream of agony echoed Harry's as he was ejected from the Dark's hold, back to bloody reality and Draco's worried expression.

**qpqpqpqp**

Pythia jerked awake with a gasp. Homer's prone form lay in front of the fire. There was something – something – holding her _down_ –

Hands seized her as she tried to flee, to go to Homer and drag them both away. She screamed as the things resolved into people, people with sticks of elm and cypress, pointing at her and saying crude Latin phrases that made her bones turn into liquid agony. She flung out a hand towards the veil, sobbing breathless in the moment between attacks, her throat too raw to speak, lost to all but screaming. The veil over the abyss fluttered, the thick material darker than the robes that the intruders had worn. A gap appeared in the curtains. She reached out, aware of bones breaking as she reached, reached – _reached_…

Her voice broke to a thousand pieces as Homer's blood splattered the walls and doused the fading embers of the fire. The curtains billowed, a giant gust of air as one after the other of her attackers left, leaving just two to grasp her arms and haul her up between them and vanish with an ear splitting crack of air.

End Chapter Forty-Three


	44. Chapter 44: It Begins

Chapter Forty-Four: It Begins

Harry struggled awake, hands flailing at the people around him. He could hear the voices of more than a few of his year mates, which meant he had woken the entire House yet _again_.

"Harry?" Draco caught his hand and held it tight, giving Harry something to anchor to. The bits and pieces in his head felt a little more fragile than normal – they felt –

His back bowed as the strands flashed in front of his eyes. "Mmm-," his tongue felt too thick in his mouth, flooded already by the coppery taste of his own blood. More people pressed close – someone touched his shin where it was covered by the blanket –

_Pansy frozen mid-laugh, the expensive dress robes curled around her thickening middle, one hand resting on the noticeable curve as Millicent and another man looked on…_

Another hand grabbed him –

_Sasha throwing a book at Seamus as he laughed and held out a box for her to take, even as she pelted him with more hard objects, her wand laying quiet on the desk in front of her…_

"S-s-stop…"

"Harry? Harry?"

_Draco again, this time older, his narrow face smoothing into the fine planes of his Malfoy heritage, striding down the halls of the Ministry, as furious as Harry had ever seen him_…

"_Stop_…"

"Where is the blood coming from?"

_Madam Pomfrey, old and wrinkled, knitting afghans by the light and warmth of a roaring fire, a fragrant cup of tea at her elbow_…

Harry gasped in a breath, hearing the wet burble of blood in the back of his throat. "Stop touching me!" The shriek filled the air, causing hands to be snatched away. Draco alone stayed, hand anchoring Harry's, keeping the worst of the chaos at bay. Harry rolled onto his side and wretched, feeling Draco put his free hand on Harry's back, rubbing small circles as Harry emptied what was left in his stomach.

The hand on his back left and reappeared with a rag, helping Harry clean off and rinse his mouth out with a glass of water that materialized after the rag was taken away. "Sip the rest," Draco helped Harry sit up. Harry's hands trembled too much to drink by himself.

"Harry?" Madam Pomfrey stood near the bed, her white apron splotched with blood. Harry tried not to think about the state of his own sheets.

"D-dream," he rasped, heart tripping over itself as the memories rushed forward. "The winter king!" He tried to push himself up and off the bed, but his body refused to cooperate. "The – Gwyn ap Nudd! I saw – the Morrigan!"

"Harry, calm down, one thing at a time." Draco set the water on the bedside table, gave Sasha a black glare for inching closer and turned back. "What did you see?"

"The Morrigan is trapped in the Dark, in a pit made into a room –," Harry waved a hand. "I can't – it's just a room," he said to Sasha's frown. "Then I heard fighting, it was Gwyn ap Nudd and he was fighting someone – or more than just one – and they pushed him into the room and then he screamed…"

"You are sure it was the Lord of Annwn that you saw?" Professor Snape asked.

"Definitely," Harry clenched his fists in the sheets. "They've been captured and they need help!"

"Harry…"

"The Dark took me there!" His mind felt like it wanted to race ahead, like there was some door that would open and explain everything, if only he could get there in _time_…

"Harry," Draco said, squeezing the hand he still held. "Did you see who took them?"

The air rushed from his lungs. "No – damn it, no." He wanted to shake and rage. He could almost see the Path he was on fade out. "We need to do _something_, Draco. It's almost too late! There are no more branches for me to take!"

"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey glanced over him with a worried frown.

The world was starting to crack again. He scooted away from the nearing press of people, seeing the strands of the future beginning to crowd in on him. "Stop –," he flung out a hand. Everyone froze. "Please don't come any closer," he drew his knees to his chest and tried to calm his racing heart.

Snape cast an eye over the crowd in the room. "Everyone out," he said after a moment's inspection. Sasha had a mutinous expression on her face, but Severus' glower proved the stronger of the two wills. She stalked from the room after Pansy and Millicent. Blaise took Neville's hand and pulled him away, leaving Harry with the two adults and Draco still perched on the side of the bed.

The soft thump of the door closing behind the students seemed to echo in the room. Harry kept his gaze on his and Draco's interlinked hands. Sometimes he would get flashes – Draco laughing, exasperated, angry – but it grounded him, kept him from falling through the widening cracks in his mind. It soothed the wounded part of his soul as well, seeing all those images of Draco, from young to wrinkled, all of them linked with Harry one way or another.

Harry was damned determined for those particular futures to come true, even if he had to rearrange Heaven and Hell to guarantee it.

"Mr. Potter…Harry," Severus folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes, staring down at the bed with dark eyes. "Please explain."

Harry caught his lower lip between his teeth and cut a glance at Draco. The blond blinked back at him, expression blank and serene. Harry hesitated – he had hinted at the problem with Auror Rayne, but…

_Even to me it sounds like I'm going barmy_, he ducked his head to hide the embarrassed flush.

"It will be all right, Harry," Draco said.

"I…" He risked a glance up at the adults. "Ever since the…thing at the – the place –," he couldn't say the name of the mental ward without stuttering now. "Ever since then, parts of me are sort of…broken."

"Broken," Snape echoed.

Harry looked down before he could catch the man's expression. "Yeah," he said. "They…It's a lot easier now to See," he licked his lips. "When, when I lose control of it, when too many people get close, I can't, it's too hard to filter it out, to – to make sense of which future is which. Which will or won't come true." He shrugged, smoothing his free hand over the comforter. They would need to strip the bed again. "I can't stop it and it hurts to – to See it all. I don't have a choice, you know?"

"This is happening all the time?"

Harry flinched at the tone, getting a reassuring squeeze from Draco a second later. "Yes and no," he spoke to his knees. "Draco blocks a lot of it. The further away from people I am, the better, easier it is for me to keep it at bay."

There was an ominous silence from the adults. "And why, exactly, did you not come forward with this information earlier?"

Harry shrugged, tugging at the hand held fast in Draco's grip. He wanted a bath, a change of clothes and a hot drink. He wanted somewhere warm and dark and safe and –

"Madam Pomfrey?" Draco's voice cut through the rising babble of his thoughts. "Would you help Harry clean up? I'm worried about his blood loss."

"Of course," soft hands waited for his permission to touch. Harry took a steadying breath and then made a face at the smell that lodged in his throat.

"I've some replenishing potions in the Infirmary, young man," Poppy guided him up out of bed and into a robe and slippers. "Let's have a bit of a walk as the house elves clear this up."

"Yes, ma'am," he leaned into her side, the strength he'd pulled from Draco enough to block the lingering strands that threatened to tangle him deeper into the abyss.

When they were gone, Draco turned to the still silent Potions Master. "Perhaps we should speak elsewhere," he said as Dobby popped into the room.

"Perhaps," the Professor agreed.

**qpqpqpqp**

Severus' jaw ached from clenching it. His teeth were tender from their tight grind. Harry had – he cut the thought off ruthlessly. The boy – the boy…

"You should break something," Draco took a seat on one of the stuffed couches in his office. "Merlin knows I did."

"They shattered his mind, Draco?" He exploded. "And you didn't think to tell us that?"

The blond arched an eyebrow and laced his fingers over his stomach. "No," Draco said. "We thought to tell you of it, but Harry was afraid you would do exactly what you _did_."

"I – what?"

"He's not mad, Severus," Draco said on a sigh, reaching up to rub at his temple. "He is merely…_more_ now. Before, he was a Dreamer, able to see the strands only in specific dreams. Dreamers are rare and are often born at the beginning of a new age."

Severus stared at the boy. "Draco…"

"We all got gifts at midwinter," the blond laughed and dropped his hand. "I had a few other gifts I haven't told you about either."

"Explain."

"I can't," Draco's smile left shadows lingering in his eyes. "But I can explain a little about what's happening with Harry."

"Do so."

"As far as I can tell, from what he's told me and what we experienced, the Healers fed Harry a variety of potions that enhanced the already changed state of Harry's mind."

"And?"

"They overloaded his system," Draco sat up and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "The human mind is not meant to see such things. Even Pythia explained that. Seers, such as they were in her age, were always sequestered, kept away from people, thought mad because they would convulse and foam at the mouth. The truth was, the stronger the petitioner's will, the more dynamic a person stood in front of them, the more the Seer was bombarded with the possible futures, causing the convulsions as their bodies tried to process what their mind could not."

"But you said Harry was a Dreamer."

"He was until that night at St. Mungo's. Even then he had the talent – a gift the Wild Magic gave him that night at the Manor. He is still a Dreamer, he's just…more now, too."

"You know this?"

"In a way," Draco tilted his head to one side. "In a way I have seen it before."

"But how…" Severus stared at the boy, rage and confusion circling his gut. "What happened to you, Draco?"

"Could we have a cup of tea, first?" The wan smile highlighted the shadows under his eyes. "This might take a while."

**qpqpqpq**p

Harry was settling back into his cleaned bed when his Head of House tapped on the door and stepped inside. Harry felt his stomach clench – he chided himself for the reaction. Snape was nothing like Sirius, he knew that, and yet still…

"How are you, Harry?" Professor Snape came up to stand next to Madam Pomfrey.

"Fine," he ducked his head.

"He needed two blood replenishing potions," Poppy tutted. "But there are no signs of where the blood is coming from. I have spoken with Mr. Potter and he has agreed to come for some tests just to make sure there is no lasting harm from these…episodes."

"Of course, a wise decision," the Potion Master's soft tone made Harry feel distinctly nervous. "Could we have a moment, please, Poppy?"

"I was just going," Madam Pomfrey patted the space next to Harry's foot. She had been very good at keeping her touches brief enough that Harry could picked up nothing from her possible futures.

Madam Pomfrey slipped out of the door, leaving them alone. Harry stared straight ahead, watching the renewed fire twist on the hearth.

"Draco has spoken to me about what you believe has occurred," Snape pulled up a chair to sit next to the bed. "I am here to apologize for my earlier behavior."

"W-what?" Harry whipped around to stare at the man. "You're not going to yell?"

A hint of a wry smile flitted across the older man's face. "I find myself in the possession of several revelations tonight, Harry. My anger is a conditioned response, but even it can be tempered."

"Right," Harry eyed the man. "Are you feeling all right, sir?"

"Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir." The tightness began to ease around his heart.

"I do wish, however," Snape studied his fingers, leaving Harry to search his face for expression, "You would feel comfortable enough to speak to me about such things. I can understand your…hesitancy at present. I shall endeavor to prove to you that not all of the adults in your life are as…fickle as you have experienced in your past."

Harry dropped his gaze to the coverlet spread over him. "Thank you, sir. I will…think about it."

"That is all I ask." Snape made as if to leave, hesitating at Harry's aborted twitch. "Mr. Potter?"

"I just…would you mind staying?" Harry frowned down at his hands. "Draco's probably asleep, right?"

"Yes."

"I just…It helps, to have someone here. If you don't mind, sir." He felt like such a baby…but it was true. He felt better falling asleep with another person in the room, the weaving strands of their past, present and future enough to block out any stray dreams that came at him as he hovered between sleep and awareness.

"Then I shall stay," Severus settled back into his chair. Harry burrowed under his blankets, turned on his side to face the older wizard. "D you wish to speak, or…?"

"If you want," Harry pulled the comforter up until just the top of his head peeked out.

Severus' face was cast into shadow by the position of his chair. "When I was a student here, the Slytherin dorms were arranged quite differently…"

Harry was asleep before his Head of House could finish his description.

**qpqpqpqp**

Imbolic arrived the next day. Slytherin House had had plans in the works for a small ceremony to take place near the lake; a symbolic bonfire to be lit and cones of incense to be offered to the flames. It had been the idea of some of the younger House members, whose families still celebrated the old rituals. The rest of the House had liked the idea and had agreed on using the rite for them all.

Harry had argued his way back into classes. His mental world was mended enough to ease through the halls, Slytherins surrounding him, keeping the other students from brushing up against him by accident.

There was no more common room outside his mental Cupboard-Under-The-Stairs. Draco and Auror Rayne had encouraged Harry to keep trying to visualize his mind, to piece it back together and remake it into an image that he liked. He had not had the heart to tell them about the reality of the situation – although he was willing to bet Draco knew more that he was saying about the matter.

The room beyond the broken door to his mental Cupboard-Under-the-Stairs was a kaleidoscope place; sometimes there was a mosaic floor that shifted as he watched, sometimes there wasn't a floor at all, just a yawning abyss that he could not look at straight on.

The door that had frightened him so much the first time was broken, twisted open all the time, the terror of it making Harry unable to get close enough to try and mend it closed. Sometimes there were melds of creatures, people, ghosts of things Harry had no name for and wasn't sure if they had ever existed on their plane of existence at all.

On his good days, the room Beyond appeared more like a Great Hall, like Hogwarts'. The ceiling would shift, sometimes stars, sometimes images of people, but easy enough to ignore if he concentrated a bit. The flagstone floors were his greatest comfort, in his mind he could feel the heft and weight of them, solid and reassuring, a flat gray that spoke no secrets from the deep.

Harry relished the relative silence in his mind as much as he relished the feel of being allowed around the castle, free to roam – if he had company. He looped and arm through Neville's as they made their way to their first class, the boys laughing as Pansy skipped backwards, finger shaking her rage at the lot of them.

The morning of Imbolic started out just fine.

**qpqpqpqp**

Sasha's finger froze on the page of the dusty tome. She sat up, the muscles in her neck and back protesting the movement.

"Sasha?" Seamus asked, peering at her with a stripe of dust over his nose.

"I…think I've found it."

"We've heard that before."

"Shut your hole, muggleborn," Sasha snarled at Hermione, the third to their little group. Lunch was almost over. They had been scouring the Library for months, even arranging passes to the Restricted Section from their teachers. They had come up with nothing the entire time – plenty of false leads, but nothing that seemed to fit all the pieces of their puzzle. With Harry's extra information, they had narrowed their searches a bit, but there was till a swath of information to be dredged and only so much time in a day.

"It says here," Sasha squinted at her translation quill. "That when winter fell early and the children's blood ran thick on the dry earth, that the Dark God was afoot."

"Poetry?"

"Granger, I swear –,"

"What else does it say?" Seamus tapped the book with one long finger.

"Not much," Sasha smoothed a hand over the worn page. "But – that sounds close, right?"

"Yes, but which Dark God?" Hermione made a face and pushed her own dusty tome to the side. "There should be a clearly labeled compendium of…" She stopped and blinked a few times.

Sasha sat up straighter. "What?"

Hermione smacked her forehead with an open palm. "I'm a bloody idiot!" She pushed back her chair with a loud scrape and rushed from their private corner.

"It took her this long to figure it out?"

"Sasha…" Seamus sighed and took a few notes on a loose sheaf of paper. "I'll go looking for more references."

Sasha made a face at his retreating back. When he was gone, she looked back down at the text, letting her fingers hover over the ancient words.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry entered the Great Hall in the center of a group of Slytherins. Draco was at his side, showing him the wrist flick for their newest Charms test – Harry had been unable to concentrate from the moment he had entered the diminutive professor's classroom – he wasn't sure why.

His earlier good mood was crumbling bit by bit. The morning had been pleasant – if a bit strained. Ginny had sat near the knot of sixth year students, but did not speak to them, preferring the new company of her own year mates instead. The entire House had noticed the shift, but were leaving it up for Harry to decide their reaction.

He still was not sure how he felt – a large part of him still felt betrayed by Sirius, but Ginny had had nothing to do with it – at least not the St. Mungo's affair. He was still somehow angry at her – Rayne said he was transferring some of his anger to the girl because he could not confront Sirius himself – and Harry agreed with that…to a point. Another part of him was angry at _her_, wanting _her_ to take his side, to defend him against Sirius' bitter wails – but that train of thought often made him feel like a great git. Of _course_ she would support Sirius. She was his bloody daughter now. She loved the man Harry had claimed as a godfather for longer than _she_ had had him as a father – and that was where he started feeling like a git again.

He had managed to push the majority of those worries aside by lunch. The heavy feeling of something-is-coming still seemed to hover in the air around him, causing him to breathe shallow and pant for air.

He did not mark the absence of Sasha from their table as the vision pounced. Harry felt his book bag slip from his shoulder as his entire body stiffened with shock. The world darkened at the edges.

He did not hear the rush of worried questions that washed over him. He did not feel the hands that grasped his body as he fell, convulsing, to the ground, mouth bloody from where he had bitten through his lips and tongue as he fell.

His back arched as he screamed – and then the pain was gone, _he_ was gone, pulled out by soft hands linked with his own.

He squinted in the brightness – everywhere was white, white and more white. There was neither up nor down, all he had to anchor himself was the warm clasp of flesh against his own.

He blinked watering eyes. "Pythia?"

The Oracle smiled, but the expression faded before it reached her eyes. "I do not have much time, Harry."

"What's wrong?"

"They have taken me."

"What? But –," he tried to yank his hands from hers. Her fingers bit into his skin like an iron trap.

"There is not time, Harry." She shook her head. "Evil rises in the west with this night. I will be fed to the fires at high noon, the bloody offering to a gentle goddess. It is beginning, Harry."

"What? But how – why –"

"Harry," she shook their linked hands. The blank white field around them began to tremble. "I have been a poor teacher. I have had little time to teach you the things you need to know. But there is this, and you _must_ remember it."

"W-what?"

"The future is not as tenuous as you think. The strands are thick enough to balance on, do you remember?"

"What – but, wait –"

"Do. You. Remember?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat. He remembered Draco – he remembered the abyss, but…

"I don't understand!"

"Evil rises, Harry." She stepped close. "In this place I cannot speak its name. He has taken two, two of the most powerful, you already know their names. The end to it all, to bring down the world in all its bloody glory he will sacrifice them on the day of equal night. The balance will shatter if you do not move it, Harry. You must rescue them. No one else will be able to find the way. The mortal world is lost if you do not _walk_, do you understand?"

"But…"

"The future splinters –," Pythia pressed her lips to his forehead. "My death shatters the gazes of the gods. Be quick, Harry. You have no time to lose. Rescue them before Ostara or all is lost." She stepped back and let go of his hands. Harry reached for her, his balance gone and his mind tangled with questions.

The rush of flames crashed between them, searing her from his sight.

End Chapter Forty-Four


	45. Chapter 45: Time

Chapter Forty-Five: Time

Hermione kicked at the entrance to the Slytherin dorms. "Open up, you bloody piece of shit!" Her hand itched for her wand, even as she heard her mother's voice in her head, reproving her language. She rolled her eyes and pushed the memory away – her language was the last thing her mother needed to worry about now.

The book was heavy in her left hand. By the time her…friends had gotten back to her, Hermione had been too late; the Great Hall was full of screaming people and a few fights. The professors had their hands full on separating the hysterical students. There were a few lurking Slytherins, but they vanished every time Hermione started their way.

She had heard from various gossiping groups that Harry had had a fit in the hall, screaming about the end of the world and fire and – she shook her head a the latest rumor. There was nothing that proclaimed hysterical idiots like ducks being connected to the apocalypse.

"Hermione?"

She whirled, heart leaping. Ginny Black stood just behind her with two other Slytherins Hermione did not know.

"Ginny," Hermione said once she could speak. "I need to get in."

"Why?"

"I have information."

Ginny's eyes slid away and then darted back. "Information about what?"

"Don't be daft, Ginny. You know what's going on, you've _seen_ it!"

"I…" Ginny clicked her mouth closed. The pair at her sides shifted glances between the Gryffindor and the Slytherin.

"Ginny, I need to speak to Harry right _now_."

Ginny's mouth twisted. "You can try," she said, stepping forward. "But he doesn't speak to many anymore."

Hermione's hand connected with the back of Ginny's head as the portal opened. A sea of Slytherin students gaped at them.

"You are a whiny little twat sometimes," Hermione snarled into the girl's face. "Now get your head out of your arse and start _thinking_ with it instead of playing the poor-pity-me party on repeat!" With that Hermione marched into the dungeons, the book held high. "Sasha? Where are you, you cow, I've got a bone to pick with you…"

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry pulled the muggle coffee-table book up onto his lap. "Crom Cruach," he tried the name, glancing over the top of the slick pages at Hermione. "You're sure it's him?"

"From what my friends could tell me, yes," Hermione folded her hands in her lap, ignoring Sasha, who glowered at her from the corner.

"Your friends?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

Hermione's chin jutted out a fraction. "There are people who think the wizarding world and the muggle world should be closer to each other. I was…introduced to some people this summer who have been aware of the growing problems and had taken an interest in…preventing more."

"Merlin," Pansy recoiled, staring at Hermione. "You've been meeting with the exiles, haven't you?"

There was a collective gasp throughout the room. Harry studied the people closest, watching the strands splinter in front of him. "Why are they sure it's Crom Cruach?" He broke in before the fight could start.

"They are sure of it," Hermione turned back to him. "They say everything matches up from their sources. The god was originally based in Ireland, which coincides…"

"To my vision, now," Harry finished with a frown. He passed a hand across the page. "It says very little about him."

"There is little record," Hermione took in a deep breath. "The records do show that he slaughtered the first born in his rites. He was a solar deity – but some think he was mixed up with an older religion…that doesn't matter. What does matter is that at the height of his worship, his followers sacrificed one of three of their children to his altars. There was no end in sight – there are vague references to some sort of orgiastic plan…anyway, at the height of his power," she snapped her fingers, causing a few to flinch. "He supposedly disappeared. A great hunt and offering of blood did nothing. His followers killed themselves and their families in a great rush, believing the end of the world was nigh."

"Fat lot they knew," Blaise spat.

"Blaise," Neville touched the other boy's arm. The pair sank back into their seats.

"This helps us, how?" Draco leaned forward, eyes bright and trained on Hermione's face.

"We – I – have to stop him," Harry murmured. He saw Draco's hands tighten around each other. "Pythia said it must be so."

"How and why she _thought_," Draco cut off, jaw working as he shook his head. "We'll talk about it later."

"Later?" Harry tilted his head to one side, the heavy hand of grief tightening around his heart. "She is already dead, burnt to ashes after she was cut open, gullet to groin. Her eyes were pried from her head and eaten. The god doled out portions of her flesh for his followers – Merlin!" Harry's exclamation caused many to jump. "It was _MacNair._"

"Harry?" Draco latched onto his arm.

"I _saw_ him." Harry dug his fingers into the pages of the glossy book. "I – he's been calling the Death Eathers…"

"Of course!" Sasha and Hermione swore at the same time.

"Wasn't there a way –"

"Lists of how many had unknown whereabouts –"

"Find and see if this lines up with –"

Harry turned to Draco as the room began to boil over with plans. "It will take more than this, you know."

"We have enough time," Draco answered. "We'll _make_ enough time."

**qpqpqpqp**

"Harry, this is…" Severus trailed off. Harry watched the man's reflection in the window.

"Mad?" He finished for the professor.

Snape pressed his lips together and shot Harry a dark look. "Mad, yes, that is an apt description."

Harry turned from the window, away from the crawling designs of the hoar frost and the way the edges would weave together words and bits of futures Harry did not try to understand. "Pythia said it," he touched his throat, where the new bandages were wrapped around him. The blast from the abyss had caught them all off guard. Harry had relived his worst wounds, staring up again at the Winter King as he smiled down at Harry, gray eyes too kind for such a fearsome reputation. The episode had been quick, but almost fatal. Madam Pomfrey was becoming quite vexed at how many blood-replenishing potions Harry had been going through. He wasn't too keen on it either.

"She said a great many things," Snape sliced a hand through the air. "No, Mr. Potter, Harry. You cannot go. You would be killed!"

"I will be killed here just the same," Harry guided his fingers over the rough wood of the sill.

"You can't know that!"

"Just as you cannot know that I will be killed there."

Severus looked ready to explode. "Why will you not let us help you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry blinked and turned to face the man. "I thought you meant…"

"It is becoming increasingly apparent that something or someone has no sense of propriety when it comes to dolling out the various harsh tasks of fate – all I am saying, Mr. Potter, is that far too often you are the one chosen for the short stick while the rest of us watch helpless from the sidelines!"

Draco looked up from his clasped hands. The Headmaster stayed silent as he stood near the hearth in Snape's office, blue eyes shadowed by the dim light of the room.

Harry took a nervous step from the window. "Then…you're not going to try and stop me?"

A muscle worked in Snape's jaw. "I am sure that if we attempted such an idea, you and Mr. Malfoy would come up with a sufficiently idiotic idea to work around it."

Harry blinked again. "Draco? But…"

"I'm coming with you, Harry," the blond did not move from his seat on the stuffed ottoman. He had his back to the fire, causing shadows to mask the expression on his face. "I told you I would follow you to the end of the world. I meant it."

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore clasped his hands in front of his waist, catching their attention. "I fear I have failed you on many levels, and I do apologize. But, above all else, you make me proud, proud to have known you and proud to have had you as a student here."

Harry swallowed past the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. "I'm not going to die, sir." He slid a glance to the silent phoenix perched on the back of a chair. "…Am I?"

Dumbledore's expression softened. "Ah, Mr. Potter, we all die. But I am most encouraged that you shall far outlive my years."

Snape was glaring daggers at the old wizard. "That was unkind," he growled at the Headmaster.

"Unkind, Severus? I meant to be encouraging."

"You're an insufferable old man who meddles too much in the lives of those around him."

Dumbledore bowed his head. "Yes," he sighed. "I suppose I have."

Harry took another step towards the center of the room. "We need to move quickly," he said. "Pythia said the gods would be sacrificed at the equinox."

"That is more than a month away."

"A month and a few weeks. Time is slipping through our fingers."

"But…" Draco pushed up from his hunch. "If we few move now, we dive in blindly to the problem. We have a month, Harry, to plan and prepare."

"A month of our time," Harry nodded. "But how fast does time move elsewhere?" His question was met with wide stares.

"You mean…" Draco trailed off.

"Time moves and shifts, like colored sand in a glass," Harry tipped his hand back and forth. "The dark god is breaking the glass, bit by bit, until all the sand rushes out at once," he spread his fingers wide, staring at the empty gaps. "Pythia was a pillar, that kept time at bay. Her veil is cracked and Homer is no longer there to mend the pieces back together. Time moves faster now," Harry met Draco's gaze. "It will move faster still, the more pillars he destroys."

"You believe…"

Harry pressed his eyes shut with shaky hands. "All I see when I close my eyes are people dying. Many woman, a few men. A little boy. They all die screaming and each time the glass cracks a little more."

"This has already happened?"

Harry opened his eyes. "Not yet. But it will. The faster we find the Morrigan and the Winter King, the fewer die. The more time we have."

"And the others…"

"I cannot save them all," the words burned in Harry's throat. "Would that I could. I have to choose and the gods must be saved. Only they have brought him down before. Only they can do it again."

Draco rose and crossed the room, shielding Harry from the adults' gazes. Harry curled his hands into Draco's robes, shuddering. Futures spread out in front of him, each more chaotic than the next.

He was so tired of being forced to choose.

**qpqpqpqp**

Sasha watched Draco move from table to table, having a quiet word with all of their House members. Huddle by huddle, the younger years drifted back to their dorms, the shadows still heavy under their eyes, but calmer from whatever Malfoy said to them.

Draco avoided the young Black girl and headed to the table that Sasha and the others had claimed. He gripped the back of a free chair, knuckles blanching white from his fierce grip.

"There is a problem," Draco began.

"You think?" Sasha snorted.

"Time will start to unravel soon," Draco turned a baleful glare her way. Her mouth turned dry, repeating his words in her head.

"But that…" Neville stuttered.

"The Dark God is going to slaughter the pillars that keep time steady," he held up a hand to forestall her barrage of questions. "It is in every future Harry can see. There is no way to stop it…so, we have to find a way to either hold everything together or fix it."

"Fix it? Fix _time_? Are you bloody daft?"

"Yes, Blaise, because I would have thought we could do something about it!"

"We need Hermione," the admission burned her, but she knew it to be true. "There are muggleborn wizards that have been studying time. I…" She shook her head. "This isn't something we can do ourselves."

"You're right," Draco's hands flexed on the back of the chair. "I don't know what will start happening when the pillars are killed. One is already gone, but as far as I can tell, the only one affected by it is Harry."

"The centaurs!" Neville exclaimed. "They would feel it too, wouldn't they?"

"Excellent, Neville. Contact them, do everything you can," Draco nodded.

"What are you going to do?" Blaise asked, narrowing his eyes at the blond.

"I," Draco sighed and looked away. "I am going to do something idiotically Gryffindorish."

**qpqpqpqp**

They each had a pack. Their robes were set aside for their particular adventure, too cumbersome for a trek through unknown territory. They each had their wands and little else – steel would do them little good, aside from their utility knives. Neither of them knew how to use a sword or any other sort of weapon. Harry hoped it would not come to that – that their wits and magic would be enough to get the job done to rescue the goddess and the Winter King.

Harry stood with one pack on his shoulder and the other at his feet. Draco was putting the last touches on the gateway to the Otherworld – they would start at Gwenn's village and hope for more information there. They would need it.

The door to the workroom opened and shut behind him. Harry cast a glance over his shoulder and froze. "Sir?"

Severus Snape narrowed his eyes as them both. "Did you think that I would let the two of you gallivant off into some unknown adventure without adult supervision? Neither of you have the knowledge or the experience for such an attempt. I am coming with you."

Harry met Draco's wide-eyed gaze. "But, sir…" he began.

"No," Severus folded his arms over his chest and stared down his nose at them. "I have quite made up my mind."

Light flared behind Harry's eyelids. He gasped and stumbled, finding the wall with one hand as Snape caught his elbow.

"Harry?"

He opened his eyes. The blazing Path stretched out in front of them, pulsing with each beat of his heart.

"Yes, professor," Harry heard himself say. "You are most welcome to join us."

**qpqpqpqp**

Crom Cruach studied the lines of his temple with critical eyes. It was grander than anything he had ever demanded in the past. His worshippers groveled at his feet, casting fearful glances at his face. The power they had gained from the sacrifices on his altar – the death of that blasted Oracle – had infused him with enough energy to cast off his human bones he had possessed to stand before them in all of his radiant glory. His Priest huddled next to his feet, fingers worrying the hem of his clothes.

"Perfect," he let them bask in his smile. "You have all exceeded my grandest wishes. You have done very, very well."

The rising wail of a child broke the sweet moment. The God turned, studying the earthen pit dug next to the pyres. The equinox was too far away. His pitiful catch would not last the elements in time for his celebration. Even as the two gods writhed in their own pit, a trap he had put together with the deaths of the unborn, if they were left alone for too long, the Dark and the gods' own powers would crumble their cage to pieces and the game would be up. No, he needed time to move faster and there was only one way to do that.

"Rise, my beloved," he turned to face the growing crowd. They came in pairs, sometimes more. Followers of his followers, wild and mad with grief or pain. Some of them had stinking wounds where the children had been torn from their bodies, too broken in mind and spirit to leave the place of their torment. As if he would ever let them go.

"We have much work to do," Crom Cruach cupped his Priest's face, stroking a thumb over the sunken hollows of his cheeks. "And time," he smiled. "Is our enemy."

End Chapter Forty-Five


	46. Chapter 46: The Norns

Chapter Forty-Six: The Norns

Draco squinted as they went from the relative darkness of the workroom onto a dry earthen path in a glen flooded with light.

Behind them, Severus sneezed. Draco shielded his eyes from the hot sun overhead – _when had the Otherworld created its own sun_? – and looked around.

Before, the bright Path had been little more than a glowing line of sand under them, leading to a lone signpost carved from gray rock. They were now surrounded by a thick wood. Draco could not see the glowing Path, but Harry seemed to, tracking it with his eyes to their left. The signpost no longer faced into the Dark, a pillar against the encroaching chaos. Instead, two other Paths branched out beyond it, one leading into golden fields and the other into more forest.

Severus sneezed again. "Wheat pollen," he muttered. "Bloody hell."

Draco had eyes only for Harry. The former Gryffindor had wandered a few steps from them, hands spread out as if he were blind. "Harry?"

"It doesn't hurt. Tickles a bit, actually."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean?"

Harry turned and Draco forgot to breathe. The other boy's eyes were full of stars. "I can see them, the strands, but it's so much easier here. It doesn't hurt at all!"

Draco swallowed and felt Severus' hand settle onto his shoulder. A soft squeeze and the man moved forward, glancing each way down the paths. Draco cleared his throat and joined Harry at his side.

"Which way, Mr. Potter?"

"Sir?"

Severus flicked his wrist. "The both of you had some plan, I assume. Where are we going?"

"To Gwenn's," Draco said, hoping the mother goddess would welcome them. "It's the best place to start."

**qpqp**

Harry all but bounced down the Path, kicking dust up in his exuberance. He hadn't felt so good in ages. Nothing hurt, the lights weren't too bright, the sounds weren't too loud, it was wonderful. Draco still seemed a bit tense and Snape was sneezing every five minutes, but Harry could not seem to share their anxiety. Nothing hurt. It felt so good to realize just how much pain he had been in for so long and now that it was gone…

He tripped and would have ended up sprawled out on the ground if Draco had not checked his fall. He managed a wavering smile at the other boy, heart beating fast in his throat.

_I'll have to go back to it_, he thought, staring at Draco. _No way could I leave Draco there alone._

The realization dimmed his excitement. Draco frowned at him, but Harry shook his head and looked away before the blond could read the flash of despair in his eyes. He knew it would be there. He was pants at hiding anything from the other boy.

_I can bear it_, he took a breath and reached for Draco's hand. _All things have a price. Pain is one way to pay for my happiness, then so be it_.

Draco gave him a funny look, but linked their fingers together. Snape sneezed again and began to mutter dire threats against all wheat fields in the vicinity.

Smiling, Harry walked into the small village that housed Gwenn and felt his feet stumble to a stop in shock.

"Merlin," Draco breathed. "What's happened here?"

The sleepy village had been on the verge of awareness, the last time they had been there. The tiny cottages, bigger on the inside than out, had dotted the wandering lane, stout chimneys peeking out through moss covered thatch roofs. A few of the chimneys besides Gwenn's had had lonely plumes of smoke spiraling into the overcast skies.

The view in front of them was much different now.

Half of the village seemed distorted, as though some sort of thick glass had come down in front of it, murky and poorly cast. The wandering road was split, the clear part cut in half and the blurry part a step over to the left, as though the veil did more than just blur the view, but it distorted it as well.

Draco dropped Harry's hand as they moved forward. Harry gripped his wand tight, feeling the handle press into the soft skin of his palm.

"I see her cottage," Draco pointed. "It's still in view."

No smoke rose from the chimney. The door was closed and the curtains drawn. Harry approached the door, chewing on his lower lip, fist hesitating as he moved to knock.

The door was wrenched open before he could touch knuckles to wood. "You foolish mortals," Gwenn latched onto Harry and pulled him inside. Draco and Severus were quick to join them.

Merle was a mass of shuddering twigs near the fire. Gwenn marched over to the windows and twitched back one side, peering out. "I don't think you've been seen," she said.

"What is going on?" Harry asked.

"Are you blind, Dreamer?" She set her hands on her hips and nodded to the distortion. "A time keeper has…died…" She peered at Harry and let her hands slide free. "Oh, Danu, child," she groped for a chair. "What's happened to you now?"

Harry looked down his front, frowning. "You…what do you see? I don't feel bad, not like before…"

"Dreamer," Gwenn sighed. Merle's head came up with a sharp rustle. "It's your eyes."

"…Oh." Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and scuffed a toe of his shoe against the floor. "It's a bit of a story and we need your help. Do you mind?"

Gwenn's chin came up. "For all that you have done for us, Dreamer, ask what you may. I will help you as much as I can."

**qpqpqpqp**

"So," Sasha stared at Hermione. "Time."

Hermione stared back. "Yes."

"It's more than clocks."

"Don't you know anything?"

"I'm a witch, you bloody cow. Magic solves many things and time is just…" She shrugged. "So how is it important?"

Hermione glared at her before burying her head in her hands. "This is hopeless."

"It better not be," Sasha snapped back. "I plan on having a nice long future, thank you very much."

Hermione heaved a sigh and pulled her hands away from her face. "Right, let's start from the beginning then…"

Hours later had most of the pureblooded Slytherin contingent with pounding headaches and piles of notes.

"This is worse than arithmancy," Sasha rubbed at her temples. "At least arithmancy makes sense."

"To you," Hermione retorted. It wasn't the first time the topic had come up. "To muggleborns and all muggle mathematicians, this makes sense instead."

"No wonder they're all touched in the head."

Hermione gave them all a look and continued. "I've already written and asked for more detailed studies –"

"You mean it gets worse?"

"But until then, we'll have to focus on something else," Hermione plowed on.

Sasha rested her head in her hands. "Right, let's think this though, then. If time is a – an equation, an actual, er, entity, or something, then that means it can be manipulated, right?"

Hermione pursed her lips, but nodded.

"So, if we figure that if things like time turners only manipulate time and not reality-"

"But time and reality are interrelated," Hermione countered. "The trick with time turners is the built in failsafe to prevent paradoxes."

Sasha covered her eyes with a hand. "But what if to prevent a paradox you have to create a paradox?"

She saw Hermione's shoulders slump through the gap in her fingers. "Bloody sodding hell."

"And it's not just us," Sasha dug her fingers into her scalp. "I mean, the whole world is going to be affected, right? How do we keep one part safe if we can't…" She blinked, eyes flicking back and forth as an idea came to her.

"What?" Hermione sat up in her seat.

"You've been to the Ministry to get a time turner, right?" Sasha asked. Hermione nodded. "About how many do you think they have, all total?"

Glee lit Hermione's eyes.

**qpqpqpqp**

Loki kicked his legs, his heels drumming against the worn bark of the ancient ash tree.

It rose into the sky, greater than the earth, holding up three worlds, thirty, a thousand and more. The spine of belief, etched into the memory of a stubborn people, who allowed the new One God into their lives, but kept the old gods in the rafters, just in case.

Yggdrasil was the world, but the world was also the ash tree – standing out, away from reality and yet its bark was part of the weft and weave that held it together.

Loki felt unsettled and he never liked it when he felt unsettled. Feeling unsettled often meant Odin was plotting with the Norns, planning new ways for Loki to do the older god's dirty work. Balder's death wasn't his fault – he'd loved the man dearly, Balder was his cousin, for ashes and flame! But that Odin…Balder was the beloved god, so young, so ready to take over Valhalla and all his father's duties…no, Odin couldn't have that, the blind old coot. So Loki had been unsettled, blanked out and came to with his children's intestines chaining him to a rock as he waited out his punishment.

Loki was still bitter about that whole ordeal. His poor wife had locked herself away, weeping, refusing to see him until the Ragnarok. Then he'd really have to watch his ass.

He had been unsettled for little more than a mortal day – he guessed. Yggdrasil's leaves rustled on the passing hours, but the whole tree was reacting oddly, sometimes shivering under the heat of his palms in a way that he had never seen before.

Something was definitely happening.

He drew one leg up to his chest and rested his cheek against his knee. He did not want Ragnarok to come about – he was quite comfortable with the way humanity had chosen to evolve and he himself had just woken up from the feverish dream state he and many of the other gods had existed in for centuries. The mortals had created such fascinating new things, so many gadgets that could break and go wrong…But that was not all he was. He was also the file miraculously brought back from a fried hard drive, the car that skidded to a stop inches before impacting a toddler – Loki liked this new human world. He was in no rush to destroy it quite yet. Odin could bloody well wait.

Still, there was no rhyme or reason for many of the All Father's actions, so when his skin had crawled with the itch of something Happening, Loki had hurried to the great Ash Tree to keep an eye on all the worlds and his various relations.

He had picked a place in the branches, away from the irritating deer and its desire to nibble on everything, alive, human, godly or not. He could see the mythic wells at the roots of the great tree, but not any of the Norns. They had retired to their small cottage built into the bark of the great tree, the fragrant scent of smoking meat wafting from their chimney.

He should have tried finding take-out and seeing if it survived the transition to this Other Place.

The itching of his skin grew to a fevered pitch. He was shifting on his seat as though he had been rolling in poison ivy for hours. Something was going to Happen, he would catch the old man in the act, or see Freyja with a skin mask or Thor sober for once or –

Shadows arriving at the base of Yggdrasil, the thick, decaying scent of blood flooding the ether. Loki arched, caught against the bark of the old ash tree as it screamed, his eyes were kept open, wide and clear, as the figures fired spell after spell at the house of the Norns, causing them to run out screaming. He was forced to watch as they fell, blood, bones and guts ripped from their skin as the shadow figures laughed and laughed.

The second pillar fell and Loki with it, breathless and sobbing for no reason he could name.

**qpqpqpqp**

"So, who's Colin?" Sasha leaned up against the door to the Owlery, Seamus at her side. Hermione shot them a cross look, but turned back to the owls, letter in hand.

"He's a friend," she said.

"A friend," Seamus raised his eyebrows, while Sasha covered a laugh. "What kind of friend is he, then?"

"An older friend."

"Ohh, older man."

"Seamus!"

The boy grinned back at a flushing Hermione. "You've been distant all year and now we know why. An older, male friend that I bet your Mum and Da have no idea about has taken your fancy, hasn't he?"

Hermione's blush grew deeper. "It's none of your business! He's a friend. He – he helped me and introduced me to some – some friends!"

"Ah," Sasha nodded, unable to keep her grin off her face. "The exiles. And, like S.P.E.W, you couldn't help but get involved."

"They were exiled for no good reason!"

Sasha raised an eyebrow.

"They were!"

"They broke the law, Hermione."

'"No more than I have," the muggleborn witch huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"That might not be something you want to say too loud," Seamus cautioned.

"All they wanted was to talk to muggles," Hermione snapped.

"It's a bit more than that," Sasha said.

"Like you would know."

"I do know," Sasha snapped at the girl. "Exiles have always wanted more than just to talk with the muggles. They want interaction, trade, exposure. It's dangerous, or at least it was."

"Dangerous, how? Think of all the discoveries we could have made together…"

"Muggles are scared, Hermione. They've never liked things they could not understand and since the One God took control of their religion, it got worse. We were a plural society once, more than two thousand years ago. Care to guess what changed?"

"You can't blame this on religion too!"

"No, I'm not. I'm blaming it on the fools that created the crap after the event took place."

Seamus shifted at her side. "Here, now…"

"Oh, don't fuss, Seamus," she flipped her hair over her shoulder with a scowl. "The Roman Catholic Church is one of the most plural churches left, not that they realize it. The veneration of the saints is close enough to deific worship that I'm surprised more people don't see the connection."

Seamus snorted a laugh and shook his head.

"No," Sasha continued, staring at Hermione. "No, what the exiles wanted was the possible destruction of the entire wizarding world, via exposure. History has taught us that people kill what they fear, and if they're lucky, they'll stop before what they fear is wiped out. They weren't always that lucky."

"So you think they deserved it? We've magic, Sasha. The wizarding world could defend itself!"

"Against machine guns?" Sasha fired back. "Against poison gas, against rockets, against nuclear bombs?"

Hermione frowned. "How do you know about all that?"

"I'm a pureblood, Hermione. One of the reasons Voldemort got so many followers the first time around is because he filled everyone's ears about the horrors of muggle warfare – and what they would be capable of doing to us if we did not strike first."

"That's ridiculous!"

"What, did you think he got so many followers by being the insane fruit cake we faced the second time around? Merlin, Hermione, are you that stupid?"

"Hey!"

"It doesn't matter now, anyway," Sasha huffed a sigh and looked away. "The muggles are ready to blow up the world as it is."

"Then…you agree?" Hermione frowned.

"I think the world should have had a slower introduction to magic than it had," Sasha shrugged. "I was going to a special university after my NEWTs. It would have been grand."

"You didn't tell me about that," Seamus touched her arm.

"Didn't know how."

"And now?"

"Well, if we fend off the end of the world – again – we'll see," Sasha gave him a faint smile. "I have no idea if the university will still exist after all of this."

"We have to have hope," Seamus wound an arm around her waist.

"Oh, I've hope, it's just the cynicism that gets in the way a bit."

Even Hermione laughed at that – then yelped as the world rocked around them. Seamus pushed Sasha against the doorframe and tried to cover her body with is. Sasha's knees felt weak and her stomach flipped a few times, ready to empty itself. Hermione lost the fight, falling to the filthy ground of the Owlery and vomiting.

The moment seemed to stretch forever, and then it was gone, leaving them shaken and pale. They could hear the alarms beginning to sound all over the school. Sasha met Hermione's eyes with a wide stare of her own.

"Think you can write Colin and see if he can hurry up a plan?" She asked.

"Grand idea," Hermione croaked. "Got a quill?"

End Chapter Forty-Six


	47. Chapter 47: Preparations

Chapter Forty-Seven: Preparations

"Let me see if I have this right," Gwenn set her cup down with a delicate click. "You've been charged with a quest to free two of the most powerful gods of Eire. To free them you must find a room that exists only within the Dark. You don't know where they are or how to get them free."

"Yes," said Harry.

"What you need," Gwenn said after a moment, "Is an eshu."

"A what?"

"They find things," She rose and paced over to a desk hidden in the corner. She rustled through a few drawers before unearthing a book. The ancient pages crumbled at the edges as she showed it to them. "See? They were gods of the crossroads, trickster gods, but more neutral than harmful. The only way to find what you're looking for is to not know where it is and ask an eshu to help you. It's their specialty."

Harry peered at the book. "They really exist?"

"Oh, yes," Gwenn set the book on his lap with a smile.

"Will we need to pay them?" Draco frowned.

"Favor for favor, but it depends," Gwenn tapped a finger to her lips. "Sometimes you'll have a thing they need, but don't know they need. Then it will be their obligation to help you."

"That's dicey."

"They were hunted by mortal kings," she sighed. "All the ancient monarchies wanted an eshu of their own. They became quite scarce after a while."

"But you think we can find one?" Harry looked up from his study of the page.

"I think -," the goddess was cut off by the world rattling. Draco dove for Harry, sending them both to the floor in a messy sprawl, the book trapped between them. Severus fell, shielding his head from a rain of twigs and clumps of dried earth. Merle had moved faster than they could track, scooping up Gwenn before she could fall and standing fast against the mighty quakes.

"What was that?" Draco pushed away, helping Harry to his feet. They both tried to keep the ancient book in as a complete piece as possible.

"I'm sorry," Harry held it out to the goddess as Merle unfurled his branch-like arms.

"No worries, dear," she sounded shaken. "And that, young man," she nodded at Draco. "Is your cue to hurry up and find a Path Seeker."

"An eshu?"

"Yes, lad," Gwenn patted her hair back into place. "One of those."

"But where do we find one?"

"At the Market, of course!" She wiped her hands on her apron and made a face at the mess on the floor.

"You just said we can't buy them."

"Ah, but eshu are always at the Market," she shook a finger at them. "They help people find things they did not know they forgot."

Draco blinked a few times and then turned to Harry.

"Sounds like we're going to the Market." Harry said. "But what was the shaking, really?"

Gwenn's expression turned grim. "A godly death," she said, her voice soft. "Your Dark God has destroyed another pillar of time."

**qpqpqpqp**

"I'm not going in there!"

"Shut up, woman, and move!"

"Don't talk to me like that!"

Ginny watched as Hermione stumbled through the entrance to the Slytherin dorms, with Seamus and Sasha hot on her heels. Her hand tightened around her quill as she watched the older students hustle to the long table under the mirrors, even as Hermione and Sasha continued to snipe at each other.

She'd been a part of that group…before. Before her father had tried to help Harry, before Sirius found out how she had hid Harry and Malfoy's closeness, how…

She let out a sigh and turned back to her stack of homework. Harry wouldn't even talk to her anymore. Draco wouldn't come near her. All she had wanted to do was make her new father happy – but she had not wanted to make Harry mad at her either – either way she had lost and it had taken many apologies for Sirius to stop yelling. Even then, Remus had been the one to write to her, to tell her that Sirius wasn't mad at her, just at everything around him and that she wasn't to take his shouting to heart. She'd written to Bill, who had promised to ask for leave from the new excavation. She wanted her brother there to talk some sense into Sirius and to calm him down, since Ginny was not able to make a dent in the man's panicked plans.

She was angry with Harry, too, for not just going along with everything. Didn't he want a family? Wouldn't he do anything to be with them? She chewed on her lower lip and glanced at the huddled older years. Something was going on, but they were keeping all of the younger House members from the plans. To involve Hermione meant it was probably complicated, but where were Draco and Harry? If the two had cooked up another hair-brained quest to…

She shook her head with short, violent twitches. She was starting to sound like Sirius after Fondorn had been to the Manor. Her father would be worked up for ages after the Healer had left, and even Ginny would feel…compelled…

Her pen slipped from her fingers as she narrowed her eyes. Something felt…off in her head. Foggy, as though she was not supposed to…

Her hand came down with a resounding crack on the tabletop, startling everyone around her. The gathered sixth and seventh years looked over in surprise.

"Ginny?" Neville finally asked as her chair scraped back and she planted her hands on the worn study table.

"Which one of you is the best at detecting mind-altering curses?" She bit out. There was a bunch of funny looks tossed among the older students, but Blaise was the one to step forward.

"What's the problem?" He asked.

She pointed at her temple. "I'd like to see if a man named Fondorn has done more than muck with my knee."

The sudden blooming of vicious grins around the older years' table was a sight to see.

**qpqp**

Scrimgeour was up to his neck in paperwork and hysterical councilors. Most of the Wizengamot was gathered in his lobby, babbling at each other at a decibel level that was eating away at his ears. The permanent migraine had migrated to encompass his entire skull; his teeth ached from clenching and grinding them together as the waves of pain ebbed by.

His aides were running _– running_ – through the building as fast as his staff could send them. Reports were coming in from both the muggle and magical worlds. Centaurs were disappearing, some were rampaging through communities, mad and frothing at the mouth, babbling some sort of rot about the end of time. Norway's Seer's academy had gone silent. Germany's Prime Minister was being held at wand-point by the German Minister of Magic in case the man got any ideas to announce to the public that the wizarding world existed. It had taken several of Rufus' still-loyal Unspeakables to change the German Minister of Magic's mind on the matter. Fudge and his contingent of former Ministry employees had disappeared off the grid and that empty vacuum of information on his rival made Rufus' skin crawl.

In short, chaos had exploded all over Rufus Scrimgeour's ordered day and he was not pleased.

The one aide he had not seen that day was Chester…or was is Casey? He could never remember the young man's name. Either way, Rufus had expected the boy to be in and out of his office every five minutes like the rest of his new aides, but he had not seen the boy since mid-morning at the latest. Rufus had done something with the inventory files and he had no idea what – his aides always had a better handle on what he had put where and when, especially Casey – or was it Chester?

He hoped Casey – perhaps Christopher? – got back soon. The Wizengamot members would take up the most of his day and he needed the tallies from the Department of Mysteries to brief them…

**qpqpqpqp**

"A modified what?"

"Confundus," Blaise tapped his wand against his palm and peered at her. "He's such a dick."

"Who?"

"Fondorn."

"Well, yeah," Ginny flexed her hands, the irrational anger no longer so irrational, burning just under her skin. "When I get my hands on him…"

"Why did he do it, though," Blaise shook his head and turned to the others. "It has to be the entire family."

"Let me see that spell again," Sasha held out her hand for the paper. Blaise handed it over. Her nose wrinkled as she read it over, one hand yanking another reference book close.

"It must have been cast before Harry came to stay with them," Pansy tugged on a lock of hair. "Otherwise how do you explain the change of attitude towards him?"

"Another curse aimed at Harry, do you think?" Millicent tilted her head at Blaise.

"No," Sasha answered with a scowl. Her dark gaze rested on Ginny. "It's not that simple – or that perfect of an excuse."

"Meaning what?" Ginny fired at the older girl.

"Fondorn had at least some legitimate training in the mental arts. He used the modified Confundus to hide the fact that he had used a spell on you, the second part of the spell just…enhanced certain things."

"Enhanced what?"

"Doubt, jealousy," Sasha cocked an eyebrow at her. "The need to conform, to be a good girl, the need to obey and please the father figure in your life. A nasty spell, very insidious. But not illegal."

"The hell it isn't!"

"It was used in the past as a deterrent for chronic offenders," Sasha tapped a finger on the book at her side. "Still used to this day. Considered a Light spell. The Ministry's – and the Unspeakable's – favorite toy."

"What book tells you that?" Blaise crowded in to look.

"Something my family has been recording for centuries." Sasha met Ginny's gaze. "True Chroniclers are bound to lay out the truth, both sides, choosing none. A messy, unloved job, hated by the victors and forgotten by the losers in whatever battles we record."

"Your family are Record Keepers?" Pansy sat up straight.

Sasha turned away. "We used to be. Now it's just my cousin and I." Seamus laid a hand on her shoulder. She did not shrug it off.

"So you're saying he used a completely legal spell on me that changed the entire way I think?" Ginny demanded.

"No," Sasha turned back. "He used a completely legal spell to reinforce what you already thought to blow it out of proportion. I suspect he did the same to both Sirius and Remus – though I wonder about Bill. He has a check-up with the Gringott's healers before he goes on to new locations, doesn't he?"

"Wait, are you saying…"

"They would have caught the spell," Blaise nodded. "Which means Fondorn was either smart enough not to cast it on him or Bill never gave the man a chance to catch him alone."

"Hey, wait…"

"Probably the later. Bill would be wary of people using him – he is a cursebreaker, after all," Neville added.

"You mean to say this is our fault?" Ginny burst out, tears making her eyesight blurry. "That right now, when I can think clearly I'm so mad and – and confused and disgusted with myself and – and – you mean that those ideas, all of that – that claptrap – was me? It wasn't someone else?"

There was a thick moment of silence. Ginny felt her breath catch in her throat. "We – I – we never, never would have – how can you –," she shook her head, taking a step back. Her knee gave out on her, her cane, her precious, precious cane she had not spared more than a fleeting thought about for bloody months, was no where to be seen. She fell, landing in a heap, tears spilling over and streaking down her cheeks.

Pansy got there first, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Ginny sniffed, trying to keep the tears at bay, but to no avail.

"Shh, shh," Pansy ran soothing circles over Ginny's back as she cried. "I won't lie to you, Gin. It was your thoughts that directed the curse, but, but," she said over Ginny's tears. "But they were pushed out of proportion, blocking the common sense from your argument. You couldn't defend against it and still you protected Harry as best you could. It's all right, Ginny. It's all right…"

But despite the words that should have been reassuring, it tasted hollow to Ginny, like dust and ashes on her tongue.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Do you have the map?"

"Yes, Draco," Harry replied without looking up. "We're going the right way."

"You're sure."

"Of course I am."

The directions Gwenn had given them were complicated, as was the map, which only Harry could read. Neither Snape nor Draco had been pleased by that. Having the folded piece of tanned skin felt good in his hands – he had missed the Marauder's Map more than he had known.

Having a physical representation of the Otherworld was nice as well. It would only show sections, from signpost to signpost as they traveled. Gwenn said it was because the Otherworld was always changing that the map had to be able to change as well. It made sense to Harry, but he wasn't sure about the others.

They were warned to avoid the distortions – Gwenn told them that nightmares could be made real from the rifts in time and space and Harry was in no hurry to test that theory out.

There were a number of Markets in the Otherworld. Capitalized because they were more than just areas of gathered traders; no, Markets themselves were like a small world unto themselves, with gods and rules all of their own. They appeared where the Paths intersected more than twice – the more Paths that crossed at any one place meant the larger the Market would be.

There were different types of Markets as well. Gwenn had warned them away from the places labeled Night Markets or Flesh Markets – and she would not explain why. The Flesh Market was easy enough to guess at, but the Night Market was a mystery.

They had passed through one small Market, where the vendors had scattered at the first sight of them, leaving a ghost town as they approached. They'd had to pick a Path at random from there and hope for the best. Harry had chosen the brightest of them all to follow. He was beginning to doubt his decision.

They had left the ever-present woods and ended up on a strange maze of wooden bridges that crossed from one bare strip of sand and grassy earth to the next. Strange shadows moved under the gray waters, too large to be any fish that Harry was familiar with. He tried not to dwell on the fact that they could be attacked at any time by those creatures and had hurried along the Path, hoping the next signpost would appear soon.

After the maze of bridges, they stepped into a world of pillars. Harry had clung to Draco's arm as they picked their way across the thousands of posts that seemed to go on forever. Severus had been silent the entire time over the field of posts. Harry didn't blame him. He hadn't been able to see the bottom of the ravine below them either.

Harry glanced at Draco and then back at the map. "We'll need to think about stopping somewhere," he said.

"Not here," Draco frowned at the fields around them, their newest location. "Let's see what comes up next."

"The signpost hasn't even shown up yet," Harry tilted the map at the other boy. Draco waved it away – he said all it looked like to him was crazy lines bleeding all over the page. It made his eyes hurt.

"We've time yet."

"We've been walking for hours."

"Are you tired?" Snape asked from Harry's other side.

"No, sir," Harry shook his head, "But we'll have to stop sometime, won't we? If this goes on too long?"

"Preferably we would get this done quickly," Snape nodded. "But it may take us more than one day."

"Adventure tales never talk about the waiting, or the walking," Harry sighed.

"I think you have fulfilled enough of those adventure tales to know just how different reality is from fiction," Snape snorted.

Harry rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet.

"Hold up," Draco's hand latched onto Harry's arm. "I see something."

They froze, all of them with their wands out. Harry peered into the gloom, looking for whatever Draco had spotted. He was about to call the blond's bluff when he saw it – a faint outline of something moving on the horizon.

"How did you see that?"

"Couldn't you?"

"All I see is a tiny blob and I can only half-see it now."

"It's a person," Draco narrowed his eyes and shifted from foot to foot. "A man, I think."

Harry exchanged a glance with Professor Snape and shrugged.

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck began to prickle as the man drew closer. The stranger was not following the Path; he walked out over the rocky fields, straight and true. As he drew closer, the tingling on the back of Harry's neck grew worse. It was almost as if…

"Lugh's balls," the man exclaimed, stopping a few feet in front of them, where his Path intersected with theirs. "Dreamer, you do get around." Roan the selkie tipped back the floppy hat that hid most of his face and grinned at them. "What, now? No hellos for an old friend?"

**qpqpqpqp**

"I've got their locations."

"Guards?"

"Two at the end of the hall. Shift change every four hours. All rookie Aurors, most of them don't even walk the hall. Their main interest seems to be the door to the Department of Mysteries."

"And the Room of Magical Devices?"

"Down the hall to the first right, second door on the left."

Colin nodded, studying the small group around him. "We'll go at the next shift change. It's time to dump all the small problems into Scrimgeour's lap so we can have the confusion. What else?"

"We'll need a distraction for the guards," Shelly pointed out. "You're the only one with the credentials to get into the building. We get close and the alarms go off."

Colin worried the skin of his lower lip. "I'll think of something. You all be ready when the alarms go off. They'll already be ringing, so they won't notice if you enter. I'll need your help with transporting the time turners. Have the port key?"

"Ready and waiting," they each said.

He let out a long breath and met each gaze in turn. Shelly, Mark, Matthew and Carey. They had risked everything to come back to the world that had exiled them. They had risked everything in one last attempt to mend the rifts between them and the rest of the world.

"Right," he said. "Let's do this."

**qpqp**

Hermione, for all of her youth, had been the only muggleborn wizard in Colin's little group of exiles he had collected. Carey was the oldest, a pureblood witch with a potions bent that included more muggle ingredients than most. Her experiments had gotten her exiled, but her skills kept her busy on the black market, digging a niche for herself and a steady stream of news for the rest of them about the goings-on in the wizarding world.

Their hopes had been raised when the old gods had reappeared in both the muggle and the wizarding worlds. But as time wore on and none of the Ministers of Magic had stepped up to the challenge of uniting the two worlds, their hopes had dried like rain puddles in summer. What little information they had received from their contacts in Knockturn Alley grew scarce. Then the killings had started and no one was willing to talk to them anymore. Not even to Carey, with all of her reputation and long-standing trust in some of the more seedier shop owners of Knockturn Alley.

It had been Hermione who had solved their information crisis. Her ideas of espionage were brilliant – something she seemed hesitant to take acknowledgement for, claiming she got most of her ideas from the muggle television. Colin had never gotten used to watching the moving pictures trapped by a ruddy big box, so he wouldn't know. Mark had seemed to agree, however and the subject was dropped.

Through their various contacts – and a hair-raising meeting with Mr. Ollivander's second cousin – they had procured a new wand for Colin, papers and identification that would pass all the inspections by the Ministry and a charm that he could wear inside the building that worked as a remember-me-not spell, with a few variations. Gaining access to Scrimgeour's staff, even before he was inducted as Minister, was easy. Avoiding the paranoid and loyal Unspeakables had been another problem.

Hermione had kept the others as up to date as she could from Hogwarts. One by one, Colin had sneaked passes and erased entry alarms for as many exiles as he could; he would need a larger crew than his small five – six, counting Hermione – to make a real change in both the worlds.

Now they were needed. They had a plan and a place to gather. He wasn't sure how Hermione had managed to secure the Headmaster of Hogwarts' permission but they were all granted rights of sanctuary at the ancient castle. All they had to do was provide the time turners and get out of the Ministry alive with them intact. No problem. Really.

There were a few traps he had set throughout the Ministry over the last few months. The authorities were all very concerned about the people coming into the building – it was what they did when they got into the hallowed halls that the guards paid no attention to. Colin was willing to bet he could have danced a naked tango for one down the hallways and only a few would have batted an eyelash at him. He'd heard stories about Fudge's tenure, after all. A naked tango for one would be the least of their surprises.

From his rickety desk he pulled out all of the minor problem folders he had been stock piling. Sending them to the secretaries in batches would be easy; the interns were faceless aides in the office, often changing places with each other, getting fired, rehired or switching with other interns with nary a report between them. It was supposedly a training program for Ministry hopefuls. It had been the ideal job for Colin to slip into and take over for his own agenda.

Distributing the files was the easy part. He delivered a few himself, watching as Scrimgeour's office seemed to explode from the inside out. Councilors were shouted for, Aurors were called to report – he was certain none of them would be able to remember which aide they had passed their reports to – after all, there were so many of them and all of them faceless in the eyes of those who felt they controlled all the power in the wizarding world.

After the Minister's office was abuzz with confusion, it was time to set off the alarms. The pranks Hermione had procured for them had been free of charge by the girl – she said she had gotten them as payment for a debt, but debt for what she had never said.

The first few set pixies free in the records rooms, causing the women there to scream and rush in all directions. More Aurors were called in to handle the pests. That was when he set off one of the larger traps. The entire first floor of the Ministry became a fetid swamp, causing the rushing Aurors to sink hip deep in the muck. The horse-flies were an added touch that sent everyone into a flaying panic. The entire building alarm went off. Colin smiled.

The Aurors guarding the door to the department of mysteries rushed from their posts as the alarm blared down the hall. Colin eased out of the Notary Public's empty office and scurried down the hall, his hand tucked into the chest pocket of his robe and the port key in his left hand. If he was discovered he would need to move fast and fumbling for his way out would only cost him time – and perhaps his life.

The Room of Magical Devices was locked, but he had swiped a set of master keys early on in his internship. A few seconds of precious time were wasted in finding the right key and he was in.

The room was full, floor to ceiling, with shelves. It seemed to go on forever in the dusty gloom. A small counter shielded what seemed to be a small waiting area from the rest of the chaos. Colin skirted the counter and the aged recording book that sat in the center, along with a quill and capped inkwell. He wasn't about to record his theft.

He knew the others would need a few minutes to clear the swamp and the other cascading traps he had placed around the building. He needed to use that time to find the time turners and get them ready for quick transport.

There did not seem to be any rhyme or reason to the room of magical devices. Splotchy-looking lamps were piled next to tarnished cups; books of all sorts were piled in whatever space could be found for them. An entire shelf of delicate porcelain unicorns followed his movements with beady black eyes that sent shivers down his spine.

From Hermione's hazy recollections, the time turners were near a corner of the room, but she had neglected to tell him which corner. The one to the far left had plastic spiders spilling across the floor and its opposite had stuffed kneazles in a paper box labeled defective. He really didn't want to know.

He found them just as the others piled into the room, breathless and wide-eyed and babbling something about advancing hordes of Unspeakables clearing the whole building. Colin tossed them each a box of the time turners, gave them all a nod and activated his port key just as the door to the Room of Magical Devices burst open and a team of Aurors rushed inside. Their spells went wide, spilling overstuffed shelves of magical objects to the floor, covering the lingering images of the thieves as they vanished into the night.

End chapter Forty-Seven


	48. Chapter 48: The Market

Chapter Forty-Eight: The Market

"You know this person, Harry?" Draco looked between them.

The stranger tsked and shook a finger at Harry. "Now, now, Dreamer. Don't you remember what I said about names?"

Harry beamed back at the man, to Draco's disgruntlement. "Sorry, Roan," Harry put their map away in his pocket. "They're new here."

Draco sputtered even as the stranger – Roan – laughed at his expense. "Here now," he began.

"What are you doing here, anyhow?" Roan interrupted, keeping his eyes on Harry. Draco glared at the man and inched closer.

"We're on a bit of a quest," Harry answered.

"Don't just tell him everything," Draco hissed at the other boy. He could sense Severus growing tense at their backs.

"Problem there, blondie?" Roan grinned at them, showing off sharp teeth.

"Roan," Harry shook his head at the man. Draco put his hand on the small of Harry's back and kept his other close to the hilt of his wand.

"We shouldn't talk to him," Severus agreed. "We do not know his allegiances."

"That's a big word," Roan rocked from heel to toe, grinning at Severus. "How many more do you know, laddie?"

Draco could have sworn the temperature around them plummeted by several degrees.

Harry stepped forward, sending a glance over his shoulder to Severus. Draco didn't think the entreaty to the older wizard's limited supply of patience would work, but…

"We really are on a quest," Harry continued. "I'm sure you have an idea as to what and why."

Roan made a face and turned a look towards the gray skies. "You mean you're wrapped up in the mess that's taking over the Otherworld?"

"Sort of," Harry shrugged. "Crom Cruach is back."

Roan moved before Draco could react, clamping a hand over Harry's mouth and staring at him with wide, wild eyes.

"Never, ever say that name," Roan's voice was hoarse. "Never, ever, ever say that name."

Harry pulled free with a sharp look of his own at the man. "It's the truth," he retorted.

"He'll hear you."

"Even here?"

Roan wrapped his arms around his middle and shuddered. "I don't know and I've no wish to find out. Don't say his name, now or ever."

Harry made a face, but Draco could see he was going to let it slide. "We've been told to find an eshu," he said instead.

Roan blinked. "An eshu? Whatever for?"

"To find some people who are lost."

Roan frowned, glancing to Draco, to Snape and then back to Harry. "You really are on a quest."

"Yes. The Morrigan and the Winter King are trapped by…Him. Pythia said I needed to find them and free them before…well, before."

Roan turned away. "That can't be possible. My master, Lugh, he would have known if two of the most powerful gods had gone missing."

"Would he?" Harry tilted his head to one side. "I always got the impression that no one liked the Morrigan and refused to deal with her. The same for the Winter King."

Roan made a helpless gesture. "They are both death gods, to a degree. No one in the bright courts wish to sully themselves with them. And the Morrigan has always been aggressive, everyone knows that."

"She's doing her job," Harry fired back. "What she was made for, just as the others fulfill their roles. Do people look down on them because of it? No. You shouldn't either."

"Hey, hey," Roan held up his hands. "I get you, really I do. But don't you think the other gods would have caught on by now? I mean, if – if He were really back and…stuff?"

Draco was ready to admit – grudgingly – that he might like the other man, with a few Obliviates and a blow to the head on Draco's part. Maybe.

"You just admitted that the Otherworld is having problems," Harry countered. "Pythia…" He faltered and forged on. "Pythia said that with her death, the gazes of the gods would be severed. He moves and all are blind to where he goes." Harry's voice had taken on a peculiar cadence, almost as though…

Draco caught Harry as he swayed on his feet, one hand coming up to rub at his head. "All right there, Harry?"

Roan was watching them with a peculiar expression of his own. "He's no longer just a Dreamer, is he?" Roan asked.

"No," Draco answered. "He's not."

Severus joined them, bending to check Harry's eyes. The other boy tried to squirm away.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy," but he wouldn't meet Severus' eyes.

"You want to find an eshu," Roan said, jerking their attention back to the selkie.

Draco blinked. "Yes."

"Then you have to leave the false Path you're on."

"False Path?" Severus set a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder as he swayed again.

"Yeah, you've a map, right?" Roan cocked a glance at Harry, who nodded and pulled it out. "See, here, how it looks faded?" Roan crowded close, craning his head to look at the map.

"You can see it too?" Draco asked.

"Of course I can," Roan smirked. "No, when it's faded like that, it's a false Path," he continued, glancing at Harry.

"Where would it have taken us?" Harry traced his finger along the worn skin.

"No where. You've been walking in place."

"Have not!" Draco retorted.

"Have too, blondie," Roan's smirk grew as Draco bristled. "The Path I was on is one of the true Paths. You get pockets like these from time to time. Come, I'll take you to the Market."

"How did you know we needed to go to the Market?" Harry asked as they followed the man into the field.

"You're looking for an eshu," Roan shrugged. "That's where they all are."

**qpqp**

More walking, a few map consultations later and Harry was seriously starting to consider calling a camp. Even Roan was starting to look worried, glancing over at the map every time they found a signpost, checking their options.

"The Market should have been two Paths back," he admitted to Harry as they paused at yet another fork. "The worlds are shifting and I don't know why."

"We'll have to stop for the night," Harry sighed.

"That might not be wise," Snape frowned at them, but Harry's feet and back had had quite enough walking for the day.

"We can't go into this exhausted," he countered. Snape raised an eyebrow at him, causing Harry to duck his head.

"Is there anywhere safe?" Snape directed his next question to the selkie.

Roan squinted at the map and nodded. "Two signposts down, there's a sea port, my home town. You can stay there. We'll be able to find the Market easy from there, but you're right. We should go when we're rested."

"We?" Draco challenged.

Roan clapped a hand to Harry's shoulder with a smile. "More than one world owes this Dreamer a bunch of thanks. Come on, if we hurry, I can get supper started before you all pass out from exhaustion."

Harry smiled at the chipper tone, but his heart gave a small twist at the selkie's words. He had helped to bring the Otherworld back to life, but he had brought back other things as well. He had to wonder when the threefold law of returns would come calling for him. As Pansy liked to claim, no one was exempt. All had to pay the dues for their actions in the end, good or bad.

He hoped the law would hold out for a little longer. He had so much left to do.

**qpqpqpqp**

Crom Cruach cackled as the tools of the Norns burned on his pyres, the shrieking of the sacrifices long silenced in the blaze. His Priest fairly radiated power, his dark eyes lowered in honor of his Lord, but standing straight at his side, not groveling like the rest. The God let it slide; his Priest had accomplished the fantastic and had lost none of his soldiers in the process. Even now, Crom Cruach could feel the threads of time untangling, causing the world to go mad at every hitch in the flow. The gods would be panicked. The mortals whipped up to a bloody fury. He would guide them to the edge of the abyss and then…and then…

But there was much to do, yet. Time still struggled on, the frantic caretakers trying to mend what he rent. Another death was needed, another strike against the faltering small army of gods and goddesses of time and fate.

He had the perfect target in mind.

**qpqpqpqp**

Draco was jerked awake by the sound of Harry screaming. He collided with Severus as he scrambled to the other boy's side.

"Harry?" Roan rushed into the spare room where the three of them had claimed spaces on the bare floor.

No blood came from Harry this time, a detached part of Draco's brain noted as they tried to keep Harry from harming himself as he thrashed. They were all knocked breathless as the quake hit their pocket of the Otherworld. Everything went gray, blurred and then snapped back into focus, as though Draco had been hit by a Stunner and then a counter curse back to back.

Harry was silent once the world had righted itself. Draco crawled to his side, shaking one too-thin shoulder.

"Harry? Harry, wake up." The trembling that sometimes over took Draco during his wild magic dreams hovered just out of his reach. He saw Roan's narrow look out of the corner of his eye, but ignored the selkie for the time being. Whatever it was, was not important. Harry…

Harry blinked up at him and winced, one hand coming up to shield his eyes. "It's going faster," he rasped.

"Another god?"

Harry nodded, shuddering under Draco's hold. "He…he was strange, I mean, the god. Tan, dark hair and he had this thing…" Harry waved a hand over his head. "He was wearing a skirt, too."

"White?" Roan asked.

"Yes." Harry blinked at the man.

"It's not a skirt, it's an Egyptian thing."

Severus knelt at Harry's side. "An Egyptian god, you think?" He questioned.

"I'm no scholar," Roan shrugged. "But we're not alone in the Otherworld. All gods have their own worlds, their own mythologies to lord over," the smile he gave them was lopsided.

Another quake tore through the room, sending them all flying. Harry cried out, back arching as a glow surrounded him. Draco had a breath to stare at the sight – and then the glow moved to him. It felt like someone was pouring lava over his bones as then took hammers to his skull. He thought he might have screamed, he wasn't sure, as the pain vanished, as quick as it came.

He blinked up at the dusty ceiling, panting for breath. "What…was that?" He tasted blood in his mouth. His inner cheek was bleeding.

Roan's worried face entered his line of sight. "We need to go," the selkie looked pale under his tan. "Things are moving too fast."

**qpqpqpqp**

"That has got to stop happening," Pansy moaned from where she had been thrown.

Blaise checked on Neville, but the former Gryffindor was fine, already up and helping a few younger years to their feet. He noticed the small flash of light go off over the dorm entrance – someone not of their House was outside and trying to get in.

Blaise picked his way across the room, avoiding tossed furniture and shards of glass from the fallen mirrors. He opened the door and ended up with a double armful of bloody Hermione and a crowd of strangers pressing at her heels.

"Bloody hell," he grunted as he hauled the half-conscious girl upright. "You'd better hurry up, Draco."

**qpqpqpqp**

"Where's the Market?" Harry asked as he struggled to keep pace with the nervous selkie.

"It _was_ down this Path to the Old Sign Post – it's just called that I don't know why – and then across. I hope it's still there."

"You think it's moved?" Draco asked.

"I think a lot of things. Right now I'm trying not to think about a great deal of them."

"There is no need for such a tone," Snape sniffed.

Harry watched as a muscle in Roan's cheek jumped. "Are you still coming with us?" He jumped in before the selkie and the Potions Master could get into another row.

A few lines eased from Roan's face. "Of course I am," the selkie's chin came up. "I wouldn't leave you high and dry like that. Selkies keep their word."

Harry ignored Draco's eye roll and let out a soft, relieved breath. Having a native guide would save them a lot of time, especially on the way back, in case…

He wrested his thoughts from that particular future and focused on keeping pace with the party. It sucked to be the shortest of the group.

Seeing the possible futures was easier in the Otherworld – just as keeping them at bay was easier as well. The Paths they had walked seemed to also buffer the effect of seeing multiple futures. The few people they had passed had had a vague sort of haze around them that Harry could bring into focus if he squinted, but it was nothing like the constant bombardment he got the longer he went in Hogwarts' crowded halls.

Harry cut a glance at Draco, noting the faint lines around his eyes and mouth. No one knew why the magic had jumped from Harry to Draco. Harry felt guilty at having put the other boy through his routine agony – a sentiment Draco had not approved of and told Harry as much. Why Harry _shouldn't_ feel guilty was beyond him – but he had not said as much to the blond. Draco was taxed enough in the strange world, surrounded by strange people who made any Slytherin worth their salt more than a little paranoid. Harry figured he was still part Gryffindor in that regard.

Harry followed the selkie down into the heart of the small village Roan called home. The smell of the sea was heavy on the air; the brine from the breakwater, the lingering odor of the fish market and tar from the docks, it all mingled together in the air, causing Harry's nose to twitch. He heard Snape sneeze and swear – Harry would have never had guessed that the Potions Master had such a sensitive nose.

They bypassed the long docks and small harbor, following a hard-packed trail of sand and dirt. Low shrubs lined their path on one side, on the other shop after shop lined the small beach that formed after the wall of the harbor gave away.

They went single file down the path; to their right, next to the shops, was an actual road lined with cobblestones. All of the buildings were dark, made of weathered wood and painted every shade of the rainbow. The buildings were two to three stories tall and here and there Harry could spot lights in some of the upper windows, the yellow glow of candles peeking out around the edges of drawn curtains.

The path led down to the town square, where three old sigh posts were placed in a triangle. The area was paved with circles of different colored cobblestones, the concentric circles causing Harry's eyes to cross as he stared.

"Here we are," Roan took a deep breath and motioned for Harry to join him with the map. Together they watched the map flicker to life as they faced each of the signposts.

"Thank all the gods," Roan let out a shaky sign. "The Market is stable."

"Where to?" Draco pressed close to Harry's side, one hand on the smaller boy's waist.

"That way," Roan pointed at the most worn of the three stone posts. "It's one of the oldest markets in this part of the Otherworld. We're sure to find an eshu there."

Together they stepped up to the signpost and across, entering into yet another world.

**qpqpqpqp**

Ginny signed her name with a hasty scrawl, using her free hand to dash tears from her face. She was tired of crying – she reached out and gripped her Jaredth, drawing the cane close to her side. She was tired of being stupid, despite Pansy's claim that it was mostly Fondorn's work that had influenced her choices during the last few months. She'd had enough of being a pawn. She was going to change that, one way or another.

She opened the top drawer of her desk and rooted around under the pile of detritus that always seemed to grow. She found the small charm Bill had given her before the end of summer holiday – it would deliver her letters to him directly, without the use of owl post. It was something the goblins had let him claim from his last excavation and he had given it to her. She had to wonder how much her brother had guessed at what was going on. He had seemed normal at the winter holidays, but Bill had already moved out of the house by the time Ginny was old enough to remember clearly. She had always loved her brother, but she did not really _know_ that much about him.

She sealed the letter with the special wax he had given her and touched the charm to the wax. She had never used the charm before, preferring to send her letters to Sirius and then on to International wizard post. She did not have time for that, now.

With a pop, the letter vanished from her desk. She strung the charm on a thin gold chain and slipped it over her head, letting the metal warm against her skin.

All her hopes depended on the letter she had just sent. If the family she had dreamed about had any chance of reforming, it all depended on if Bill received her letter in time.

**qpqpqpqp**

"We'll need one here and here," Sasha pointed at the detailed plans of the castle.

"But what about here," Hermione pointed at a spot near Hagrid's hut.

"It's in the middle of a field."

"Yes, but two of the wards intersect there. It will hold up the western side of the castle grounds."

"We can repair the grounds," Neville countered. "We can't repair the castle if it's ripped apart."

"Of for…fine," Hermione threw her hands into the air. "But we need a secondary anchor on that side of the castle. Securing the hot houses should be a priority as well."

"Why?" Blaise arched an eyebrow at the Gryffindor.

"Because, you dolt, if we end up caught in a time loop – of if, Merlin forbid, Harry _fails_ – we might e suck here longer than we know."

There was a small moment of silence. "Oh, bugger all," Blaise muttered, glaring down at the plans. "That changes a lot of things."

Sasha rubbed at her temples. "We'll take the fields then. We'll need the animal pens if worse comes to worst. Eating house elves is just awful. I'd rather a steady supply of chicken." She ignored the gagged sounds coming from the small group of exiles seated near them.

None of the Slytherins tried to interact with the exiles much. Sasha still didn't trust any of them, despite what Hermione said. The one in charge, Colin, was a shifty-looking sort. She narrowed her eyes at him, watching as he glanced at Hermione more than the plans laid out in front of them. Exiled at fourteen for deliberate interaction with muggles – at twenty he had put together quite the crew of criminals, one of which Sasha was sure to incur the wrath of their Head of House. To let any black market potions master into their sanctuary was something Severus Snape would have been livid about in any event, end of the world or not.

"How many of the time turners do we have?" Sasha squinted at the northern section of the castle.

"Twenty three."

She let out a sigh. "To do this right, we need to place them on all of the main anchor points and start them all at the _exact_ same time. That should…"

"Should?" Colin interrupted.

"That _should_," she forged on, "create a temporary plane for all of the grounds. The Headmaster has agreed to stay in his office for the duration – He'll hold the wards. If he falls, we all fall."

"How's his health?" Neville asked.

"Madam Pomfrey will be there everyday. You've felt how strong he is," Sasha shook her head. "It will be a constant drain on his magical reserves, but if Harry and Draco succeed, then it should be fine."

"And if they don't?" Colin asked.

"Then we'll burn that bridge when we get to it," Sasha forced out through clenched jaws. Colin looked like he was ready to argue some more, but Hermione put a hand on his arm and the man shut up.

"So, we have twelve points to secure the plane of this reality," Blaise touched the small token nearest him. They had fashioned small tokens to mark their choices in lieu of marking the plans with ink.

"Where are the teachers?" One of the exiles – Mike, Sasha thought his name was – asked.

"They're with Dumbledore at the moment," Hermione answered. "They will hold each of the dormitories, so that accounts for four more time turners."

"Oh, damn," Sasha blinked and sat up straight. "We need a new Head."

There were a variety of curses around her.

"Can a prefect fill in?" Someone asked.

"No," Sasha ground her teeth together. "We need the Head of House or his closest relative – _someone_ with enough power…"

The all shouted when their floo flared with vivid green fire and a man rolled out of the ash. A furious Lucius Malfoy stared at them all, not batting an eye at the forest of wands pointed at his heart.

"Where, exactly, is Severus Snape and my son," he snarled into the silent room.

**qpqpqpqp**

Janus touched the worn pillars of his temple, the ruined glory returning to its once vivid splendor as he watched.

Time shuddered, the strange ripples distorting his view. He could feel the gods of his ancient city, native and foreign, reaffirming their bonds with their temples. Rome's populace boiled, the mortals wild and angry, thronging in the ancient necropolis, surrounding a giant building Janus had no memory of at all. All of the graves were gone as well – from the few explosions and angry mortals he had crossed, he had found that many of the more minor deities had not taken well to the fact that the One God's temple had taken over their sacred sites.

Still, the mortals and their angry panic were starting to worry him. Their refusal of the miracles Mars had created, covering his fields with a wheat harvest Janus had never before seen, was strange. From what he had heard from the other gods, the mortals reactions were happening all over, almost as if the silly creatures had forgotten about the gods and magic.

Unbelievable.

His head went up as a rainbow arched over the entire city. Janus could taste snow in the air – the sudden appearance caused the mortals outside his temple to wail in fear. They had been doing that more of late.

The pair of armed females landed in front of him as he exited his temple. Their arms and helm proclaimed them as valkyrie, but the grief on their faces caused a chill of fear to touch his spine.

"Greetings," he inclined his head.

The pair spoke in unison. "Greetings, Janus, god of Rome. Odin All-Father sends you this message. The Norns are gone, burnt to death at the base of Yggdrasil. Ra from the desert bids us warn the others; Hauh has perished as well. Mind the keepers, Janus, god of Rome." The women gasped as another time ripple shuddered over the city. Bifrost disappeared in a shower of sparkles and the valkyrie vanished.

The chill of fear had turned into a giant ball of dread – he feared the valkyries' warning had come too late. As he watched the skies above his beloved city buckled and start to fold, he knew he was right.

Fortuna was gone.

**qpqpqpqp**

"Welcome to the Market," Roan stepped aside so they could get a good look.

Harry gaped as he looked out over the cliff they had arrived on. Below them, the Market seemed to stretch on forever; it was made up primarily of tents of all colors and sizes. The sharp scent of exotic spices floated up on the breeze. The faint thrum of chimes and people hovered in the ether.

The Market was set into a small depression; around the rim, signpost after signpost sprouted up from the Dark. Harry could see neither limit nor the other edge of the Market from their vantage point.

"How many Paths lead to this place?" He put a hand to his chest. His heart was starting to pound and he did not know why.

"More than fifty," Roan stepped forward, making for the broad path that led down the rim and into the Market.

"Fifty?" Draco choked.

"All sorts come here, bright court and dark; foreign gods and acolytes," Roan tossed a smile over his shoulder. "They say Danu and Dagda called this placed home before they created the worlds and the gods."

"Is that true?" Harry hurried to catch up to the man's long strides.

"Don't know," Roan shrugged. "That was long before my time. We will find help here, though. I'd bet on it."

"Now you've jinxed us," Draco muttered.

Roan seemed to miss a step, catching himself on Harry's shoulder. "You follow the old ways?" The selkie turned a surprised look onto the blond.

"Of course I do," Draco growled back.

"Will wonders never cease," Roan said and it took Harry stepping between them to keep Draco from hexing the man.

The rim separating the Market from the entry points wasn't very tall, perhaps three stories at most. Harry could see a steady stream of people bustling through the stalls, but…

"Is it always this empty?" Snape voiced his concern.

"We're in the Between hours," Roan said. "Too earl for the morning Market, too late for the Night Market."

"We were warned to stay away from the Night Market," Draco said.

Roan nodded. "That would be smart, if you were alone." He thumped his chest, causing the small medallion around his throat to jump. "You're with me, though and that makes all the difference."

Whatever response Draco had ready for that remark was swallowed by their entry into the Market itself.

There was no order to it that Harry could see. Rows of tents seemed to be added at random, causing small alleys to appear between the rows of larger tents. The odor of cooking food made Harry's stomach rumble. They had had little time to stop for food in the hustle to leave for the Market. Perhaps…

"You're hungry?" Roan asked, his brows drawing together.

"Yes…shouldn't I be?" Harry placed a hand over the offending area.

"I…" Roan shook his head, trailing off to mutter under his breath.

"Here," Draco pushed a bar of dried…something into his hands. "The house elves made these. They're pretty good."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Looks awful."

"It's made with honey," Draco took a bite of his own, as though to make a point.

Harry nibbled on the edges, tasting cinnamon and sugar more than honey. He followed the still-muttering Roan into the Market and tried to ignore the tasty smells wafting from some of the vendors. Draco and Severus weren't having any problems. Harry chalked it up to his being weird yet again.

The press of futures was prominent in the market, almost as bad as Hogwarts on a bad day. They hadn't gone more than a few feet into the Market proper when Harry glued himself to Draco's side and had a death grip on the blond's hand.

"Harry?" Draco's lips touched his ear.

"Strands," he choked out through a mouthful of dried granola. Draco's hand tightened on his and the looming strands eased back bit by bit.

The further into the Market they went, the more elaborate some of the tents became. Some had grown past the tents and made actual buildings, though they were few and far between. The longer they were there, the more foot traffic began to fill the dusty streets. Fabled creatures from every story Harry had ever read about were everywhere he turned his head.

Of them all, the locals to the Market gave Draco the widest berth. A few seemed to recognize Harry and he thought he heard a faint cry of "Dreamer!" go up in one alley. But no one rushed him, like the mobs of the wizarding folk had from time to time. One or two brave souls had taken a step towards them, only to pull back when they saw Draco. Harry wondered what they saw when they looked at the other boy.

Roan led them past a row of jewelers, all of them watching their small party with wide eyes. Draco's gaze lingered on the stalls, his pale eyes caught by the glittering jewels. They almost ran into Roan as the selkie came to a sudden stop in the middle of the road.

"Lugh's balls," Roan muttered. "This would happen with you lot."

Harry peered around Roan, even as Draco struggled to tear his gaze away from the shiny objects lining their path.

A line of men – at least Harry thought they were men – in brightly patterned robes stood in front of them. They all had turbans on their heads, reminding Harry uncomfortably of Professor Quirrell.

"Who are they?" Harry whispered to Roan.

"The people you've been looking for," the man in the center answered. His face and hands were all the visible skin Harry could see. It was tanned like old leather, wrinkled around the eyes and mouth. The man's turban was a deep purple, as were his robes. The robe stopped short, near the thigh, showing sturdy leather pants and boot, as if the man had dressed ready for travel and not pleasure.

"Rasheed," Roan said. "I thought you had faded."

"I had," the man inclined his head and moved his gaze to Harry. "I was woken."

Harry tried to swallow the dried granola in his mouth and failed, coughing up a lung instead. He was forced to hang onto Draco as Severus pushed a canteen into Harry's hand and helped him take a drink.

It wasn't the manliest image he could have presented. His face was flushed with more than his exhortations when he looked up at the crowd.

The man Roan had named as Rasheed was several steps closer than Harry remembered. Up close, Harry could tell the eshu – he _had_ to be an eshu – was the oldest of the lot, his dark hair peppered more with silver than dark strands.

"Are you well, Dreamer?" the man asked, hands folding into the sleeves of his robe as he stood his ground.

"Fine, thanks," Harry rasped out.

A smile touched the corners of the man's mouth. "We have been waiting for you," he said.

Harry blinked and glanced around. Many of the shops had closed up their fronts, the vendors vanishing.

"I…hope that's a good thing," Harry said, flexing his grip on Draco's hand. Draco squeezed back. Harry could see the hilt of the blond's wand in his free hand.

"Oh, yes," Rasheed smiled, even as the whole world seemed to shatter around them. "It is."

**qpqpqpqp**

Lucius felt the Slytherin Head of House position settle over his shoulders like a physical weight. He rolled his head from side to side hearing the vertebra crack and pop as tension settled into his frame.

_At least Severus had not allowed Draco to go alone_, Lucius' hand tightened around his cane. When he had seen both Draco and Severus' clock hands in the mortal peril position…He wasn't sure if the current chaos in the world was what allowed the old floo passages to reconnect or not, but he was willing to take every short cut to the castle he could get his Slytherin hands on. He would be at the school when his lover and his son returned or he would find a way into the Otherworld himself and _drag_ them out, so help him Merlin. He refused to lose another person he held dear to the jaws of war. He categorically _refused_. They would have to go through him, first.

The position as temporary Head of Slytherin House meant he could not leave the ancient quarters until the world righted itself. Before he had left the Manor, Lucius had gotten a number of reports about a major theft at the Ministry – it rankled, a bit, to know that a _Gryffindor_ and her exile friends had been the ones to set that escapade into motion and not a Slytherin. Still, the youths of his former House were putting in a fine showing of their own on the placement of the time turners. Constant runners to and from the other Professors kept them in on the loop – Flitwick was a virtue to their planning, as the Head of Ravenclaw had had the most use with the time turners than all of the rest of them combined.

Most of the objects had been set in place – there were just three more that needed to be set and they would be ready. Lucius knew they were running out of time. Outside the castle, the storms had begun; great sheets of lightning flashing over the Forbidden Forest, sparking fires in the inner depths. The skies had not dimmed to a night's full darkness in over a full day. The skies remained a muddy reddish gray, as though a great fire roared just over the edge of the far horizon. It put everyone's nerves on edge.

Lucius had never put much thought as to Severus' position as Head of Slytherin House. He would have to commend the Potions Master when he saw him next. The strain was taxing, even in the short amount of time Lucius had filled in the role.

He settled into a plush chair near the hearth. Messages were being run in from the common room, since the school floo seemed to muck with the stability of the House wards when they tried to connect to the hearth in the Head of House's private rooms.

"Sir?" A young girl padded up to his side. "Another message from Professor Flitwick, sir."

"Thank you," he took the creased note. Flitwick was concerned over the stability of the Infirmary – good man, Lucius noted. Poppy will have to take vows to the castle to correct that. He noted down his thoughts and sent it off. It was frustrating, in a way, to be bound, helpless in a room while children – _children_ – ran about securing their boarders._ It must be borne_, he reminded himself with a sigh. _Until they get back and the world will be saved. Somehow. Again_.

Lucius pushed away the heavy doubt that lingered like an ague in the back of his mind. Even he was not sure how the world could be saved from the brink of insanity it was perched upon.

He hoped the three travelers in the Otherworld had a better idea than he.

**qpqpqpqp**

Bill jerked awake, ears ringing with the sound of clear trumpets. He rubbed at his eyes, flinching away when he poked himself in the forehead with his wand. He had grabbed it out of reflex and had not let go.

His heart was thundering in his chest, but even that could not drown out the sounds that had filled his dreams for nights on end. Trumpets, horns, any number of variations would chase him awake night after night, sweating hard and panting for breath. Always, always the Black Manor stood in his dreams, like some silent sentinel that judged him every time he closed his eyes. The dreams were starting to affect his work, making him jumpy and forgetful. The goblins had already hinted that perhaps he should take another vacation. His aide from Gringott's was in favor of the idea and urged him to go see his family on a daily basis. For a goblin, the offer was extraordinary. Bill surmised that he must look like he was at death's door to get such a generous consideration.

Bill dropped his hands and considered the option. He was leery of returning to the boiling pot of _whatever_ was going on at the Black Manor – something was off in that House and he could not put his finger on what. He had been tempted to use his skills as a cursebreaker the last time he was there…but Ginny's pleading had stopped him at the last minute. His sister was petrified of losing her new father's regard - which was silly, since Bill knew that Sirius thought Ginny hung the moon. Even Remus' quiet acceptance was bothering – the werewolf Bill remembered was more than happy to challenge Sirius' declarations and go head to head with the animagus in a full on shouting match from time to time. But at Yule…The house had been quiet. Too quiet, now that he reflected on it.

The soft chime of priority mail made him blink into the gloom. The sand, sand and more sand of the desert was difficult to keep out at the best of times. Now that the world was tilting at the edge, the sand storms were rampaging across their new excavation site every other day, making it impossible to work. It was yet another thing that had added to Bill's problems with sleeping. No work meant no pay for his grunt labor and every day there were pushed back on their schedule meant another man he lost at the end of the week.

Bill was pretty much convinced that fate was out to turn him gray long before his time.

He padded over to his mail slot in his boxers; the tent was too hot to sleep in anything else. At such a new site, Bill preferred to have quarters at the dig, instead of the nearest town. More than once he had defended Gringott's claim on the treasures against would-be treasure hunters. Gringotts had paid him back with loyalty – and a larger cut of the final sum from those digs.

The letter that lay in the special tray, however, was not a standard Gringott's notice. The plain parchment was embellished with a plain black wax seal, with a stylized letter in the center. He knew that seal. There was only one like it in the world he had found.

He tore open Ginny's letter and scanned the contents. The ringing in his ears seemed to grow louder. A few minutes later had most of the camp awake and aware that he was going on vacation. Immediately.

Bill was on his way to Black Manor.

End Chapter Forty-Eight


	49. Chapter 49: Horns

Chapter Forty-Nine: Horns

Harry hovered over the abyss, breath harsh in his throat as he panted for air. The last thing he remembered was the eshu's eyes, strange and gleaming, as through he could see _more_, just as Harry could.

_Maybe he's an eshu dreamer,_ Harry fisted his hands and tried to find his balance. In the absolute blackness, up and down lost all meaning. He told his stomach to stop its quivering and looked around.

His body was probably screaming, but in the abyss, Harry felt no pain. He wasn't sure if it was a spirit-body disconnect like when he had taken the Vision Potion, but nonetheless, not having to writhe in agony while he searched for information was a bonus in his book.

The abyss was rife with chaos. Harry could see the strands of the future snapping, one by one. Every so often he got flashes of others, men and women, trying to keep the futures together through sheer will-power alone.

Another god – goddess, Harry corrected himself, seeing an image of the woman flash in front of him – was gone. The Dark God was moving faster, confident, it seemed, in his own power and the ability of the gods to do nothing.

_What can I do_? He sent the question out into the Dark, hoping for an answer. Sometimes he was lucky; the last few times he had tried it, it had seemed to work.

The problem with asking, was that the abyss never seemed to know how to answer in a human way. The rush of images, futurepresentpast would bombard him all at once, just like…

Bill. Bill at Black Manor. Bill with a beautiful woman on his arm, laughing with Remus. Bill in Egypt, a scar cutting down one side of his face. Bill, old and gray, sitting surrounded by children. Bill…

A horn. A clear, ringing trumpet filled his ears, like a French horn hitting a high note, causing his bones to ache. Yes, _yes_, a horn to call – to _call_ –

Harry was thrown, screaming, from the abyss, mind and hands grasping for a man a world away.

**qpqpqpqp**

The world was almost ready. Crom Cruach stretched out one hand, feeling the way reality pushed back against his skin. Yes, oh yes, things were almost ready.

His Priest was curled at his feet, expression upturned, adoring. His worshippers continued their orgies of flesh and blood – the occasional scream could still be heard from the crowd of mortality behind him.

The time was almost right. Soon, with just one more death, he would be able to snap the bonds of time. Soon, soon his plans, his dreams, all of it would unfold in brilliant glory. Soon, the failure of Tigernmas and the past would be put to rest for all time. The gods were defenseless against him. The two who had spilled his blood in the past were already his for the slaughtering. And better yet, the gods had mislaid their precious Horn of Calling, leaving him free to do as he pleased.

One last rush of mortal deaths and he would be ready. He lifted one hand and heard the ecstatic moans rise in pitch from behind him. His Priest rose to do his bidding.

The crying children were led out of the earthen pits, struggling against their captors.

Crom Cruach smiled.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry blinked back to awareness, wincing at the bright glare of a noonday sun beating down on him.

"Draco?" His throat felt raw, but not bloody. Things were looking up.

"Here," the blond helped him into a sitting position and pushed a cup into his hands. Harry drank, spilling a little as the tremors in his hands sloshed the water over the sides.

"How long?" He asked.

"Little less than four hours," Draco peered into Harry's eyes, a habit he had seemed to pick up from Madam Pomfrey.

"Professor Snape?"

"Standing guard."

"Guard?"

"The eshu wanted to take you," Draco's expression was fierce.

"Ah," Harry passed a hand over his face. "Got a towel?"

"Just this," Draco pressed a handkerchief into Harry's fist and turned to check on Snape.

Harry followed his gaze. The Potions Master stood a few feet from them, stance wide, and an…

"Why does the professor have an axe in his hands?" Harry felt faint. It – he knew – he's seen _something_ like that…hadn't he?"

"It was leaning against one of the shops," Draco helped Harry stand and steadied him against the resulting wobble.

"It was just there or did it appear?"

"I wasn't paying attention…why?"

Harry shook his head. "I've…I think I've seen this before. Something like this. I think. It's muddled."

Draco put an arm around Harry's waist and squeezed. Harry gave the blond a smile and turned back to the stand off at hand.

Professor Snape stood in front of them in all of his wiry glory, axe in one hand, wand in the other. By all right he should have looked silly, Harry mused. Instead, the Potions Master seemed to give off a deadly menace that kept the crowd of gathered eshu at bay.

"S-Sir?" Harry had to clear his throat and try again. "I'm all right now, sir."

"So we see, Dreamer," Rasheed, the head eshu, replied.

"Harry," Snape said without turning. "Do you wish to follow these…men?"

"That was what we came here for," Roan pointed out. Harry blinked. He hadn't seen the selkie where he was leaning up against one of the wooden posts of the Market stalls.

"Harry?" Snape said again.

Harry took a deep breath and eyed the crowd. Rasheed stood in the center, a host of Paths radiating out from him, all as brilliant as the moon. "Yes," he said, "We can trust them."

"That was not what I asked, Mr. Potter."

"That's all the answer I can give you."

Snape's stance relaxed as he moved back a step. The axe lowered to the ground, but the older wizard did not let it go.

Rasheed stepped forward, hands slipping free from his sleeves. "We are running out of time, Dreamer."

"Yeah," Harry blew out a sharp breath. "I know." Anticipation and dread began to boil in his gut.

"The Path will not be quick," Rasheed tilted his head to one side. "But all that was lost shall be found again. I will help you find it, Dreamer. This I have sworn."

Draco's arm tensed as Harry drew in a shaky breath. "Well, then," he said. "Let's get going."

Rasheed's triumphant smile showed teeth.

**qpqpqpqp**

Bill slammed the front door of Black Manor open with a resounding _bang_.

"Hey, now!"

Bill had his wand out, ready for them. Remus was easy to petrify with a single shot. Sirius dove for cover, making Bill work a little harder at his query.

The animagus was furious at him, but Bill paid the man's words little heed. He needed to pin the ex-Auror down, just like Remus. It was hard to concentrate with all the noise in his head, though. The sound of a horn, now more than a hunting call than anything from a muggle symphony, kept sounding in his ears.

Sirius made a mistake by moving to the sitting room for more cover. Bill used the mirrors and had the man wrapped in spells within a minute. Sirius was red-faced and furious by the time Bill had dragged Remus to the room and propped him up next to his adoptive father.

"What the _hell_ is the meaning of this?" Sirius' hair was plastered to one side of his face.

Bill shook his head and flicked his wand at the adults. All of his instincts were screaming at him to be careful, go slow, but the urgency that had settled into his bones bucked at every delay.

Cracking his knuckles, Bill set to work, lips peeled back into an unconscious snarl. The layers of spells on the two men were thick. Remus showed more signs of resistance – but then again, Sirius' mental protections had been shredded by his years in Azkaban. Fondorn would have known how to manipulate that – because of his job as a Healer, his priority _should _have been to fix those broken protections, not bend them even further.

Bill did not pity the Healer when he was done with Sirius. Fondorn had many debts to pay to the Black family. Bill intended for the man to repay every single one.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry followed the eshu with Draco close on his heels. They had left the Market hours ago. The Path the eshu had chosen for them led straight into the Dark. The Path beneath their feet pulsed in time with Harry's heart – or else his heart was determined to keep time with it.

The looming Dark pressed in on either side of them. Professor Snape brought up the rear, the axe still in his offhand, held close to his side. The wizard had seemed to forget it was there until Harry had mentioned it – even then, all Snape had done was flex his hand around the handle and frown at the weapon. Harry had decided to leave the man be about it. He could make up his own mind. Roan paced between them and Snape, hands in his pockets and appearing more than comfortable following a fabled creature into the unknown.

"You're sure it's this way?" Draco asked.

"Quite," Rasheed's colorful robe stood out against the gloom of the Dark. "I can smell it."

"Smell what?"

"What you've lost."

Draco frowned at the man, but Harry was the one to ask the next question. "How – I mean what, do you smell?"

Rasheed tipped a glance over his shoulder. "If I tell you that, you may remember, Dreamer. And then we would be lost."

Harry heard Draco snort and mutter under his breath.

"But," Harry was about to try again when Rasheed stopped and held up a hand.

A weak cry floated out from the darkness. Harry pushed past the frozen eshu before Draco could stop him. The Path spiraled out under his feet – he heard Severus shout his name, but forged on.

Doors rose out of the Dark, the tall structure closing even as he dashed closer. A small girl was huddled next to a dark pool, hand covering her face as she cried. Feathers covered the floor around her.

"Harry!" Draco shouted. "Harry, come back!"

"Dreamer, do not enter!" Rasheed's roar echoed through the Dark, causing the girl's head to snap up and look at Harry.

Her dark eyes encompassed the world. Harry felt his breath stutter in his chest. The girl's eyes went wide. She threw up a hand and it was as if Harry had hit a wall. The breath rushed from his lungs in a pained wheeze. She shook her head and the doors slammed shut inches from his face and vanished into the Dark with a sigh.

"Harry!" Draco's arms came around him, pulling him back against a broad chest.

Harry reached out, a wordless cry building in his throat. "Didn't you see it?" he demanded. "There were feathers!"

"Feathers? Harry…"

"All over the ground! The girl was sitting on a pile of them!"

"Harry!" Draco turned him around and shook him. "There was no girl!"

"But…"

"No," Rasheed spoke up. "There was a door, young man, and a girl."

Draco's grip relaxed. He glanced towards the eshu. "There was? But all I saw…"

Rasheed knelt in front of Harry. The eshu was still tall enough so it was more that Harry could look him in the eyes without straining. "Do you know why she shut you out, Dreamer?"

Harry shook his head.

"That little girl is Hel," Rasheed touched Harry's cheek with cool fingers. "She is a mistress of the underworlds. To enter her halls is to never leave, if you are mortal."

"But…" Harry protested over Draco's choked sound. "There were feathers. The Morrigan may have been there."

Rasheed tapped Harry on the nose. "Who do you trust to lead you to the right place, silly boy? You have a mortal's nose and mortal's senses. Leave the trails to me."

"…Yes, sir." Harry ducked his head as Rasheed got to his feet and moved away.

"Don't _do_ that," Draco muttered once the eshu had moved off. Severus laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, doubling the sudden guilt that gripped him. "Or at least take us with you," Draco finished.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the other boy. "Take you with me?"

"Well," the blond tried to smile at him. "I figure if you end up in an underworld, the best plan would be to have a pair of Slytherins with you. We'd be able to talk our way out of there. Eventually."

Harry let out a huff of laughter and linked his hand with Draco's. "Three Slytherins, Draco. Don't count me out."

"Never."

**qpqpqpqp**

Crom Cruach surveyed the grounds. This last death he would perform himself. It would not do to have his worshippers fail him at the last. No, this was too important to trust to another, even to his Priest.

Tyche's cave was lined with glowing wards; Hermes' touch, he was sure. Crom Cruach was willing to bet the other awakened gods were milling about, wild with confusion and panic. To awaken after so long, only to have the world be torn out from under them…Oh, yes, Crom Cruach could imagine the panic the gods had to be feeling.

His followers were spread out in the woods surrounding the cave. The skies were still the same rust brown color, with the occasional crackle of sheet lightning flaring in the west. The slaughter of the children had given him enough power to bring them all the way, silent under Ares' paranoid watch of his boarders. Oh, yes, it was _time_.

He rushed forward, the wills and magic of his followers shattering the wards that meant to keep Tyche safe. There was a scream, high and piercing from inside the cave. He caught the blonde as she dashed for the exit, the draped toga slipping off her shoulder and exposing her breasts. The goddess thrashed against his hold, even as his Priest made a low, hungry sound in the back of his throat.

Using the last of the power gathered from the children, Crom Cruach took his people away from the ruined cave, vanishing without a whisper as all the fury of the Olympian gods crashed down on the small clearing.

Crom Cruach had secured his last victim with ease.

**qpqpqpqp**

As interesting as it was to watch Sirius destroy room after room of Black Manor, Bill had a more pressing concern on his mind.

The blinding headache had set in after he had managed to free the older men from the curses they were under. The resounding call of a horn kept sounding in his head, growing stronger, louder with each passing hour. His teeth ached from clenching them against the pain. Remus had his own hands full of attempting to keep the animagus from self-harm as well as controlling his own impulses to rage and destroy all that was in his path. They were trapped in the manor, Fondorn away in muggle London and the wards would not let them leave the house.

Still, a headache potion would have been nice.

Bill bent forward, holding his head in his hands. Sirius' warpath had ventured up stairs to the junk rooms. The muffled sounds of things exploding drifted down to the sitting room from time to time.

"Bill?"

He looked up to see Remus standing in the entrance. He let his hands drop with a sigh.

"Yes, Remus?"

"Are you…well?" It was an absurd question, Bill mused. But then again, it was an absurd time.

"I…have been having strange dreams," he admitted. "About this house. About something in the house."

"For how long?" Remus entered the room. The sounds of destruction from above had stopped.

"Since Harry was here with us," Bill admitted. "It got worse at Yule."

"What do you dream about?" Sirius asked, surprising them both.

Bill looked the animagus over. Dust and plaster made the dark hair prematurely gray. "A horn," he said. "I hear a horn in my dreams," he rubbed at his face with shaky hands. "Merlin, I hear it even now."

"A…horn?" Sirius frowned, tilting his head back to consider the ceiling. Bill felt a spike of worry stab through him. He had an idea as to how fragile Sirius' mindset was, but if the animagus had taken a turn around the bend…

"My Uncle Alphard used to say," Sirius blinked and tipped his head back down to lock gazes with Bill. "My uncle Alphard used to say that long, long ago the Black family were keepers of something very precious, very special to all the old ways. He never said what it was and once my mother caught him whispering to me she never let him in the house again." Sirius shook his head as his shoulders slumped. "Perhaps that is what you are looking for."

"Would it…" Bill's heart leapt to his throat. "Do you think it would be here?"

"Here would be the only place we have to look," Remus laughed, the sound devoid of humor.

"The Manor is were the family put all the things they wished to forget," Sirius said, voice soft in the tense silence of the room. "Where better to look?"

**qpqpqpqp**

The blood of Tyche painted all of his available skin. Crom Cruach sat back on a mound of moaning, writhing flesh and popped another joint of finger into his mouth. The roasted skin was crispy, blackened by the pyre. The tender meat was succulent, ready to fall off the bone as he worried at the joint with his teeth.

His orders were ready. His followers were primed. His Priest was on his way with the strongest of his seconds, to take their two guests of honor from their waiting room. There was no reason to wait. Crom Cruach had all the power he needed. It was time. He threw back his head and laughed, congratulating himself on his plan. Yes, it was _time_ and _time_ was all his. He spat out the bone in his mouth, the small lump disappearing into the sea of flesh surrounding him.

He would bring the fire and the sword to all and everything. The storms had started. The gods themselves had no way to stop him. There would be no Tigernmas to foul his plans once more.

From the depths of the Dark, the Morrigan and Gwyn ap Nudd would be brought to take their places on his altar and end all of the worlds together.

End Chapter Forty-Nine


	50. Chapter 50: Storms

Chapter Fifty: Storms

Harry had barely recovered from the last wave of chaos that had swept through the Otherworld when Rasheed went stiff, mouth open in a silent, agonized _oh_ of surprise.

Roan caught the eshu as he fell. Harry had enough strength to sit up – with Draco's help – and watch as Severus went to help the prostrate man.

"What's wrong?" Harry passed a hand over his eyes, but the blurry bits at the edges of his vision would not pass.

"I don't know," Roan bit out as Rasheed shuddered and lay still. Snape put his pack on the ground and sorted through it, finding a pale pink liquid secured in a small vial. He tried to get the eshu to drink the potion. Rasheed's irritated push almost spilled the contents over them both.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Rasheed groaned as he sat up. Snape's black glare didn't seem to deter him in the least.

"Then what…"

"Tyche is gone," Rasheed said.

"We already knew that. Harry said her name while he was…away," Draco snapped at the man.

"She is dead," Rasheed seemed to pay no attention to the glares of the Slytherins. "She is gone and now whatever it is you are looking for has moved. Do you know why?"

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. Draco's hands clutched at him. "Yes," Harry croaked. "We know why they were moved. But we don't know where."

Rasheed got to his feet with Roan's help. He held out one hand, eyes closed, nose twitching as he turned in a slow circle. After a long second of silence, he sighed and opened his eyes.

"Your query is not here," he said. "They have left the Dark and have gone into the Aboveworld."

Harry clenched his hands into fists as Draco cursed a blue streak in his ear. "Can you still lead us to them?" he asked Rasheed.

"Only through the Dark is my nose the best. Aboveworld…" Rasheed spread his hands and shrugged.

"Wait…wait," Draco shifted Harry against his chest so he had a free arm. "I have an idea."

From the angle Harry had turned his head he could see the gleam in the Slytherin's eye. It touched something inside Harry's chest, causing a cold tingle of _yes-Path-move_ and was gone.

Draco held up a thick piece of chalk and brandished it in the air. "Get us to the nearest, most powerful signpost," he said. "I'll do the rest from there."

**qpqpqpqp**

Black Manor had seen better days.

Bill sat back on his haunches and considered the wall in front of him. They had turned every closet inside out. All the cupboards had disgorged their contents onto the floor. Bill had been the one to slam a fist into the wall, destroying plaster and drywall in a puff of white dust. The empty space beneath his fist had infuriated him, so he had taken both hands to the wall and ripped it open from floor to ceiling.

Remus and Sirius started in on their rooms moments later.

Still, they had come up empty handed. None of the rooms on the first or second floors had yielded anything, though some of the contents of the closets were a bit stomach turning. The collection of dried eyeballs in a sterling silverware case was a surprise none of them were ready for.

"Bill," Sirius stood in the doorway of the wrecked guest room. Remus had been the one to go through the family bedrooms – even Harry's – as he had a touch more caution than either Bill or Sirius had at the moment.

"Find something?" He stood, ignoring the ache that had taken root in his lower back.

"Not…exactly." Sirius frowned and glanced at the ceiling. "There's one more place left to look."

Bill followed his gaze. "I thought there wasn't an attic?"

"There isn't. Well, sort of."

The stairs were hidden behind a steel door covered in curses and locked with a handful of different devices. They didn't bother trying to find the keys. Bill's years as a cursebreaker eliminated most of the protections. Sirius' command as Head of the Black Family got rid of the rest.

The attic was warded by a triple web of spells. The hair on the back of Bill's neck stood up straight as they mounted the rickety stairs. If it were possible, the resounding call in his head grew louder, causing the migraine to spike into liquid agony behind his eyes. He put out one hand to steady himself and shuddered as a host of long-legged creatures scuttled away under his hand. He drew it back and wiped his palm off on his pants.

The attic of the Black Manor was like a smaller floor of the house, with the peaked roof slanting above them. Windows were set into the dusty walls, allowing some light into the dark place.

Cloth covered most of the objects in the attic. A few mirrors muttered from a far corner, the edges of silver just visible in the murky light. Bill could see a few ratty couches pushed up against one wall and a locked, glass covered bookcase standing silent sentinel next to it.

"Well, then," Remus said from behind them. "This might take a while."

They moved with more caution in the attic. Bill left the bookcase to Remus, who had started exclaiming over the various titles behind the spelled glass. Most of the objects found underneath their cloth masks were just what Bill had been expecting from any other type of attic – headboards and chairs. The occasional trunk full of moth-eaten clothes from an era long past.

Some of the other finds were not as…tame. The oblong shell Bill had found in one corner opened up to a belly full of spikes, some of them with what looked like dried blood on them. A scold's cage was on top of a pile of rusted thumbscrews and foot breakers. Bill had not asked why they were in a child's toy box, painted bright blue and red with the name Pollox lacquered on the top.

But when Bill touched a dusty wooden trunk, half buried under a pile of broken wizarding toys, he knew they had found it. The sounds in his head crested to a triumphant shriek and then faded away. His shout alerted the others, Sirius fell to his knees next to Bill, helping him fumble open the locked trunk.

Inside, laying on a bed of crumbling velvet, was a curving, brass horn.

**qpqpqpqp**

Lucius was laid out on the plush couch of the Head of Slytherin's apartments and struggled to find his breath.

He ached more than when the Dark Lord had put all of his former servants under the cruciatus curse. The last visitors who had made it to the castle had been Auror Rayne, accompanying a flustered Healer Fabing. The Auror had not been pleased by the sight of the exiles claiming the Slytherin common room as a temporary home, but Lucius had had no time to vent his ire at the irritating man. He needed what little strength he head left to keep from ripping off his badge as Head of House and running mad into the night.

The drain had not been bad, at first. The constant confinement, a long day and night of waiting, trapped in a set of rooms with only children as runners to keep him informed – that had been what had taxed him to the edge of his endurance at first. Lucius was used to being able to command the secrets of society at a whim – to wait for red-faced first years was not an acceptable alternative.

Sometime during the night, however, the tide had changed. Lucius had scarce been able to walk from the bedroom to the couch without the world reeling around him. As the day progressed, he had been unable to leave the couch unassisted. By the afternoon he had forbidden anyone from trying to move him at all.

Lucius knew he was a powerful wizard. Courted by the Dark Lord himself, when the crazy old bat was sane and as smooth talking as any salesmen Lucius had ever met. Being near the Dark Lord, some said, was like being next to a vortex of power, wild and breathtaking and hard to resist. Lucius had understood that call, that desire to bask in power. He had wanted to call it his own, when he was younger.

He had never put much stock into the abilities of the Heads of House at Hogwarts. His distain for Slughorn and McGonagall's obnoxious favoritism was something he had put up with, not explored. But now, now he would no longer look at them and dismiss them out of hand. Even the Hufflepuff woman, the irritating gardener – all of the other Head of House were still able to move about their rooms, tired, yes, from the strain, but not collapsed in a chair, sacked breathless by the greedy wards of Hogwarts castle.

He would never underestimate them again.

The time turners were doing their jobs as best as he could have expected. The world beyond the boarders of the wards had become hazy. The Forbidden Forest had melted away into mist. No one could see past the spinning lines of time that kept their small pocket of reality from shattering – but they had a few ways to watch the world beyond their walls.

Flitwick reported that whole chunks of Hogsmead were tearing away. Sprout was tearful in pronouncing the death of several of her specialty plants that were seeded throughout Diagon Alley. McGonagall reported nothing to Lucius, but he had enough to work together a picture of the outside world on his own.

Lucius' breath caught on a shuddering inhale, heart beating fast as the spells he had laid on his lover and son blared to life under his skin. He scrabbled at his left sleeve, tearing back the cuff, sending the cufflink bouncing over the thick carpets. There, in place of his former shame, he had had the finest spell-inker lay lines of protection into his skin, one for Severus, one for Draco. Spells that would tell him if they were dead or in pain, spells that would never let him sleep again if he failed them once more. More, in the lines beneath his skin, he could _feel_ them if he concentrated. It was how he had known they had gone, stepped beyond the boarders of the magic he had wrought, lost to his monitoring.

He let out a shaky breath and then called for his Slytherins. The lines of power had blazed to life once more. They were alive, somewhere, somehow.

Slytherin House needed to be ready.

**qpqpqpqp**

Albus Dumbledore was an old man. He was an old man, an old wizard and an even older soul. He had thought he had felt his years before – but it was during the long wait in his office that he had felt them that keenly than ever before.

The long past rolled out before him as he slept at night. Flashes of regrets, better forgot, but too dear to push away. He regretted many things in his long life. He regretted the duty that had bound him away from love. He regretted the sacrifice needed to keep order, a sacrifice he had been able to give but not at the cost of his own heart. He regretted his blindness. He regretted many of the choices he had made, hoping above hope that it would lead them to the future of his dreams.

He let his Heads of Houses work the outside wards and to keep the stability of their dormitories safe. He was a strong wizard, but even he could not save them all, not this time.

Fawkes gave a piercing cry and launched into the air. The phoenix settled onto Albus' shoulder, his soft feathers brushing Albus' cheek. The Headmaster lifted a frail hand to touch the soft crest and then let his hand drop back into his lap.

Albus had seen the storms start before the time turners had been spun to work. He had been able to see them from his office window, the way the sky had turned rusty brown, the strange crackle of sheet lightning flaring on the horizon. The boiling clouds, dark and terrible and heavy with things worse than rain, had eaten up the ground towards the castle, covering all else in darkness. It had hit as the time turners flared to life, the wards holding strong against the storm of temporal flux that threatened the world around them.

Albus had anchored his reserves of magic to the very stones of the school itself. Hogwarts had fed, for centuries, on the influx of ley lines that ran under the foundations. With the time turners taking them one step to the left of reality, the castle's lines of power had been cut, causing the wards to falter. Even before then, Albus had needed to bolster the school's power – the time storms, as the students had taken to calling them – had impaired Hogwarts every time they raked the world over. If Albus had not stepped in, the wards would have long since fallen.

But Albus was running out of time. His strength was fast fading. He could feel the pull of the castle on his old bones, the age of all his years he had drawn breath to serve the Light, to keep his world, all the worlds, as safe as he could make them. Hour by hour the castle pulled more and more from him, until he saw black spots dance in front of his eyes every time he moved.

Worse, from his position behind his desk, Albus could see his long rows of delicate magical objects, hidden behind their protective glass cases. One by one, as the hours ticked on, they broke, some shattering to a million pieces, some crumbling to ash. Each one unique, each one part of the castle and its history.

Albus Dumbledore was running out of time and he knew it. He only hoped he had enough strength to see the storms through, and then…and then.

Then he could rest.

**qpqpqpqp**

Scrimgeour leaned against the war table, hands clenching white-knuckled at the edges, surveying the magical map of Britain's wizarding world.

Outside, the time fluxes were ripping apart whole chunks of Diagon Alley. Outside the Ministry walls and wards, which shared a power source with Gringott's deepest level of vaults, outside, the sky was neither blue nor black. The reddish haze that had started up hung low overhead, the oppressive color lending the illusion to heat and thunder. Riots ran wild in the streets. Rufus could not send his Aurors or his Unspeakables out to calm the panic. The Ministry wards had activated its last failsafe, trapping them all inside.

Inside Rufus, he was awash in confusion and rage. The attack on the Ministry – and no matter how harmless some called the pranks, it _was_ an attack, a terrorist attack and from the exiles no less – had created holes in his ranks. The exiles, he had since learned, had fled to Hogwarts and were guaranteed sanctuary there by Albus Dumbledore himself.

Rufus reflected that he should have replaced the aging wizard when he had had the chance.

What little reports he had from the muggle world showed a far harsher picture. The wizarding communities had some protection because of the wards the builders had set up, rituals the oldest of the construction companies still made at the site of any new building. Even the unintentional wards still offered the people an edge off the worst of the storms. They had gotten reports of newer settlements being hit the hardest, those without the old protections. Some of the shops were ripping themselves apart as the devices inside shattered and took the building with them. The entire Firebolt factory had gone up in flames. It was one of the last reports he had gotten from the outside before the wards cancelled any outside communication.

The muggle world was worse. Even the non-protected areas of wizarding Britain were still buffered by the very existence of magic – it somehow resisted the smaller storms that wrecked havoc with delicate muggle technology. Rufus had read report after report of muggle military bases going up in flames – and sometimes worse, as he read in one report about the detonations of nuclear devices in the United States. The muggle world had gone mad in the hours after the second, stronger time flux had flashed over the entire world.

In the wizarding world, Rufus had had centaurs to deal with, as well as an entire bank that had vanished into thin air. His councilors had run mad at the news – most of the family fortunes having been stored in the vaults of Gringott's bank. Reports of wild werewolf gangs filling Knockturn Alley had turned out to be false – but they had lost the team of Aurors sent to investigate the claims to a horde of wild-eyed rioters who had torn the men's wands from their hands and beaten them to death with bare fists.

There were times when Rufus regretted not invoking martial law.

They had lost a half-dozen other Aurors to more accidents and ambushes. Two of his Aurors had been in the middle of appariting back to the Ministry when a time flux had hit. The pair simply…never returned. They had been two of the youngest Aurors in his ranks as well. It had been a hard loss to swallow, but Rufus had been forced to move on without a moment of silence, without a curse, Merlin, without even a stiff drink.

He could have used an entire bottle of firewhiskey.

The reports of civil unrest in the muggle world were worse than that of the wizarding world. The various military regimes were gearing up for war – though against whom, Rufus was at a loss to say. London was full of chaos; rioters looted the stores, setting fire to the buildings and gathering in centers, drinking and inhibiting other various illegal drugs in attempts to ease the coming of the end of the world.

The places that provided any sanctuary at all were the holy sites. Temples, churches, synagogues and mosques were packed cheek to jowl with the devout and those panicked enough and lucky enough to find refuge in the ancient walls of faith.

Rufus had received word that the Temple to All Gods had been open – at least until the last time flux that had closed everything down. Rioters ran wild in the crowded outside, all of them desperate to get inside the walls. He had heard of a desperate call for the adults to pass their children forward first, but the plea for mercy went unheard as man after woman pushed inside.

In the muggle world, Rufus had heard report that the whole of the Vatican City and Mecca were first thought safe against the time fluxes – with some secondary reports that places like Athens and Thebes in Egypt were holding out against the storms as well. But as the storms grew worse, the cities began to feel the effects, until it was just the holy places that stood against the battering storms. There was report of murders and unrest all over the world, growing worse as each hour passed.

Rufus bowed his head as the chaos of his own Ministry washed around him. _Gods above_, he drew a deep breath and suppressed the prickle of tears. _Gods above, if you've ever cared for us at all, help us now_.

**qpqpqpqp**

The normal rules of House solidarity had long been thrown to the four winds. Sasha had thrown her proper pureblood propriety out along with it and had dragged Seamus off for a nice…encounter after the time turners had been set and brought to life. Sasha was a determined girl and there were a few things in life she planned on experiencing before the end of the world, propriety be damned.

After, Seamus had stayed in the Slytherin dorms, content to watch her as she flittered about, checking the time turners, the notes and avoiding Blaise's knowing eye.

Still, when the nervous energy ran out and the hour grew late, Seamus had stayed and she had no wish to send him elsewhere. They had shared the wide couch in the common room together, preferring to stay near the hearths for any emergency floo calls from other parts of the castle. She had gone to sleep that night with Seamus pressed against her back and a warm arm draped over her side. She had not slept so well in ages.

But as the day dragged on and they took hit after hit on the time turners, Sasha's good cheer had faded. Fear, cold and tight, had lodged in her gut. She had no idea where her cousin was. She'd had no way to contact him before…before. She was stuck at Hogwarts, and her last living family was lost to her in the chaos she knew, she _knew_ was taking over the world.

She knew it was just as bad for Seamus. His muggle father had no way to protect himself and his mother would never leave him.

"Stop worrying so much," he spoke, his lips brushing her temple. They had taken over one of the plush love seats for themselves.

"How can you tell I'm thinking anything at all?" She lay curled against his side, feet up on the couch, breaking all the rules of feet on furniture the dorm had.

"You have a funny line right here," he touched the spot between her brows, "every time you are."

"Cheater. That's Slytherin logic."

"Perhaps it's rubbing off on me."

"Rubbing _off_…" She elbowed him in the ribs, cutting off his chuckles.

Seamus grunted as her elbow made contact, but all it ended up doing was tightening his arm around her middle.

There was a rumble and the whole castle seemed to shudder. Sasha's eyes were glued to the ceiling where dust rained down. They had given up trying to keep the once pristine surfaces of their dorm clean. Now they bore each hit with bated breath, tense and shaking as the storms battered the wards.

Seamus' arm was cinched tight around her. His mouth was pressed against the fine fall of her hair. "It'll be all right, Sasha. We'll live through this. Everything will be fine. Harry and your boys will get there in time. It will all be fine…"

But no matter how many times Seamus muttered the fervent mantra into her ear, she couldn't help but doubt that perhaps the vaunted Boy-Who-Lived had finally met with an adventure he would not finish, a quest he could not complete.

Sasha closed her eyes and tried to push the worrisome doubt away.

It was a long wait until morning.

**qpqpqpqp**

Blaise had noted Neville's absence just after the ubiquitous return of Sasha and her pet Gryffindor. Blaise tracked Neville out of the dorm and through the empty halls. The dash outside of the castle proper was hair raising. The wards were a flashing sheet of multicolored light, a blur of their reality, darkness, something else and then wild splashes of greens and reds and blues. He could not stare at it for long. It made his stomach twist and lunge for the nearest exit.

The glass of the hot houses obscured the wild light show at the edge of the wards. Blaise found Neville in the back of the ornamental flower section, tending the bright fall of wizarding show flowers with gentle hands.

"I thought those were Professor Sprout's project?" Blaise folded his arms across his chest and leaned against one of the support pillars.

Neville cast a glance and a smile over his shoulder at Blaise – the plants must have told Neville he was coming, Blaise mused. Otherwise, Neville was prone to jumping when he was startled.

"Professor Sprout is…busy," Neville murmured, turning back to the flowers. "I thought I would see to them until she could take over."

Blaise cast a glance up at the heavy paned glass above their heads. The soft shifting sound of semi-sentient plants rustling filled the silence.

"It's pretty," Neville interrupted Blaise's study of the walls. He was closer than the Slytherin had realized. Neville stripped off the soil-stained gloves and set them on a wooden potting table.

"Pretty?" Blaise tilted his head to one side, holding his ground as Neville approached.

"The lights," Neville glanced up, just as a sheet of purple lightning arched over their heads. The ground rumbled beneath them. Blaise caught Neville against his chest and held on as the ground bucked beneath them.

"It's getting worse," Blaise said.

"I know," Neville curled his hands into Blaise's robes.

"We should go inside."

"I'd rather stay here."

"But the glass…"

Neville's eyes were shadowed as he met Blaise's stare. "The glass won't matter if the wards fail."

Blaise slid an arm around Neville's waist and burned his face into the other boy's hair. "You're right. It won't."

The touch of Neville's lips to the hollow of Blaise's throat took his breath away. He pulled back to frame Neville's face in his hands and kissed him, long and slow, neither flinching as the crashes overhead began to come faster and faster.

**qpqpqpqp**

Hermione had built a fort out of books when she was a child. Her parents had had the picture framed and put up on one of the hallway walls in a place of honor. They had joked that her first experience with books had shaped the rest of her life. She wished she had had the chance to tell them that it had and that she loved them and that she was sorry, for all and every little thing she could think of in the long wait of day to night to day again.

Colin found her in the morning, slipping into the empty library with warm plates in his hands. Madam Pince had taken oaths to the castle to sustain her sets of wards on the library, so she was confined to her rooms, unable to scold them for bringing food into her sacred temple of knowledge.

"You should eat," he slid a plate in front of her, along with a set of silverware. She made a face, but tucked in. He slid in next to her, working at his own plate.

She had not liked him, in the beginning, when Tom had introduced her to the small group of exiles he helped when he could. She had not understood, hadn't _cared_ why they fought or why they were so determined to blow off the Ministry and break all the rules. It had taken a few weeks for them to earn her trust – and it had taken longer for her to earn their respect, but in the end, she figured it had been worth it.

"The traps you gave me worked wonders," Colin said into the silence.

"Where?"

"At the Ministry."

"…Oh."

"Quite the prank, I'd say. Never figured you for that type."

"I'm not."

"Friends, then?"

"…Not exactly." Fred and George had taken a while to respond to her letter. It had taken her longer to send it in the first place. She had not wanted to contact them, to open old wounds better left healed. The distractions for Colin had been necessary, though, and she knew she had not near enough talent to come up with them on her own. So she had swallowed her pride and written to them, calling in every debt she could think that they owed her.

Their response had been…strained. There had been a dearth of things they had sent her, enough joke bombs, booby traps and other assorted items that she had more than enough to pick and choose from to send with Colin. It was the news that they had sent with the package that had troubled her most.

Charlie's tenure as head of the Weasley family was still strong. Their mother, they had written, had taken a visit to St. Mungo's along with Ron. She had yet to leave the recovery ward by the time Hermione had received their letter.

As for Ron…well. They had had good news and bad. The good was that he had finally woken from the poison-induced coma he had been in since Corner's attack. The bad news was that Ron had not handled the return to his body well. He, too, was still at St. Mungo's, but in a different type of coma, more of a state of catatonia that the Healers could not seem to draw him from.

Hermione made a face, the news of Harry's torment at the Healers of St. Mungo's putting a different spin to the twins' letter. She had meant to write to them, to urge them to take Ron from the hospital, but things had gotten too sticky in her life for her to spare any attention for them. Now, a small part of her had wished she had taken the time to write. She was firm on smacking the sense out of that part of her.

"Did I bother you?"

She blinked out of her thoughts, and found Colin staring at her, his plate empty and pushed away while her own eggs had long gone cold.

"Blast," she muttered and waved a warming charm over her plate. She didn't miss the hungry way Colin's eyes followed her wand.

"You have your own, now," she said, not turning to meet his gaze.

"…It's not the same."

She nodded, curling her fist tight around the handle of her wand. "Yeah," she agreed. "It's not." She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have her wand snapped in front of her eyes, feel the connection lost. Her wand was almost like an extra limb, a part of her she kept close to her side at all times. To lose it would be like losing a leg or worse.

The castle shook as a vicious roar of thunder seemed to erupt right over their heads. She jumped, her plate rattling, books falling from their shelves as the whole library was moved by the force of the storm meeting the wards.

"Can you imagine what it's like out there?" Colin propped his elbow on the table and studied the murky sky outside the high windows.

"I'd rather not," Hermione pushed her plate away with a sigh.

"If it's affecting us like this…"

"I'd rather _not_ play let's imagine, thank you," she winced at her own tone, but did not try to take back her words.

"Your family?"

"I have one, yes."

He touched her shoulder, but she pulled away. "They could be fine," he offered.

Another storm hit the wards, then another a second after. The walls shuddered and the racket of books falling to the floor echoed in the room.

"I doubt that," she said in a breath of calm between storms. Then the next series hit and they were too busy hiding under the tables as parts of the ceiling rained down to talk more.

End Chapter Fifty


	51. Chapter 51: The Call

Chapter Fifty-One: The Call

Crom Cruach opened his eyes as his Priest and his followers arrived through the portal. With time unraveling around them, it was child's play to rip open gates to different parts of the mortal world. Dangling between his followers hands were two bloody and bedraggled forms.

The Morrigan molted feathers every step they dragged her. Gwyn ap Nudd was pale, his hair matted to one side of his head, limbs jerking oddly as he dangled in his enemy's clutches. The sight was enough to fill Crom Cruach with glee. He felt the smile spread across his face, even as his followers wailed and threw themselves to the ground in front of him.

Oh, yes, he would enjoy these last two sacrifices. Very, very much.

"There," he pointed with a long finger towards the altars that had been set up.

The Morrigan seemed insensate, but the Winter King was awake, eyes at half-mast, glassy as he watched the mortals strap them down to the rough stone altars. The trap he had caught the two gods of Eire in had been specially made for them, drawn from the torments of his slaughters and bolstered by his feasts on the holy days. Oh, yes, it had taken much to create, but in the end, the trap had been worth every lost month of his time.

The binds were made out of magic enhanced steel – tempered by spells cast from his wand waving followers, these _wizards,_ he had gathered to his calling had come in handy during his ascension. He would have to find a way to award them for all their hard work.

The god and goddess were strapped down, face tilted towards the rust red sky. Dawn would not rise again until he called for it, nor would night set on the land. He had ripped apart the bonds of time so that _he _could call the shots, so _he_ could control the worlds and all that lived in them. They would learn what it was like, living suspended in the Dark, feeling the wild heart of it eat away at their consciousnesses until they were ready to run mad from the pain.

Oh, yes. He was _more_ than ready to reap his revenge on the world.

**qpqpqpqp**

Gwyn ap Nudd blinked up at the sky, not understanding why it seemed as though the world was on fire. He ached, Danu, how he ached. He blinked away wetness from his eyes and tried to focus.

Pain bloomed inside his skull, causing his stomach to clench. The mortals – were they mortals? – did not flinch as he bucked, turned his head and vomited out a thin stream of bile. It burned the back of his throat and made the pain in his head even worse.

He did not recognize the mortals. The rough stone altar under his body thrummed with an energy that screamed with the pain of countless deaths. Gwyn ap Nudd reached out, knowing he _had _to be in the mortal world – but his senses were trapped, or else the world had gone mad in however long he and the Morrigan had been imprisoned.

The goddess of battle was unconscious on the altar next to him. Her head lolled to one side, eyes shut as her chest heaved for breath.

He had no idea how long they had spent in the trap wrought just for them. He should have seen it coming, he should have felt the urgency in the monsters that had attacked him, should have noticed how they had been herding him in one direction. He had been a fool to miss all of the signs.

The mortals' bonds dug into his flesh, cutting open new wounds on his wrists. Immaterial, he knew. They were tied face up, eyes to the sky, to their executioner, the god they would be sacrificed to. Gwyn ap Nudd had seen enough of such sacrifices in his own time to know this plan inside and out.

He curled his hands into fists and flexed, feeling the bonds hold – and then give, just a bit. He bared his teeth to the sky – he might be bound, he might be weakened. But if his enemy thought he would die without a fight, well, then. They had another thing coming.

**qpqpqpqp**

The Gate took them into a world that Harry wished he could deny was his own. He clung to Draco's side as they stumbled away from the portal, the gate vanishing as Severus' robes cleared the edge. Rasheed and Roan's forms were taken with it, the selkie unable to cross the portal when he tried. The worlds were spiraling further apart, Rasheed had called. They were trapped in their own world until the call went out – whatever that meant, Harry snarled to himself.

Going back to the moral realm was harder than he had imagined. His mind, healing bit by bit in the quiet of the Otherworld, was hit by an onslaught as he stumbled through the portal and into Draco's arms. His legs had threatened to give out on him, his knees knocking as he struggled to relearn how to keep his sanity intact as they waited for Professor Snape to join them.

Harry took a deep breath and straightened, keeping one hand wound into Draco's robes, but standing on his own two feet, giving the blond room to draw his wand. Draco's gate had been a work of art. The glowing lines of chalk had swiped through the Dark, as if the air itself had become a chalkboard for Draco to inscribe his spells on. The narrow intensity on the blond's face had also caught Harry's attention, the way the pale eyes had gleamed and the smile that had shown teeth. Draco had been in his element and it had been quite the sight to behold.

"Which way?" Draco had to shout to be heard. Wind whipped past them, pelting them with sand and small stones, stinging their eyes. Great flashes of multicolored lightning crackled overhead. Severus stumbled to them and laid large hands on both their shoulders.

"We must be close," the Potions Master pushed them towards a large rock cliff face. Harry could smell the scent of the ocean surf in the air.

"Harry? Harry!" He turned at Draco's shout. "Can you See which way to go?"

Harry struggled in a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'll try," he shouted. Thunder growled over their heads. Behind his eyelids, the futures spiraled out of control. The giant rope he had envisioned with Pythia was gone, strands snapping even as he watched. He caught flashes of prone bodies and frantic spirits – all of them attempting to hold back the tide of chaos to keep time in working order.

They were losing.

Harry shook those images away and tried to focus. He needed to find Crom Cruach, he needed to find…Feathers! He gasped and tightened his hold on Draco.

"What? What is it?"

"She's here!" Harry opened his eyes, but the Sight did not fade. The faint overlay of spectral feathers littered the ground where they stood. "The Morrigan! She's here! She's close!"

He did not miss the grim look that passed between Severus and Draco. "Then we're close," said the Potions Master.

"There," Harry pointed up and to the left. "Up there, on the bluff," he swayed, caught by Draco's hands. "The feathers are falling off the cliff. She's up there!"

"There should be guards," Draco shouted at Severus as another shriek of lightning and thunder erupted around them.

"We shall have to be vigilant," Snape shouted back. "We do not know how many followers –"

Harry shrieked, but the sound was lost in the angry chaos of thunder erupting around them again. The futures all rushed at him, tangling around his spirit and mind like a giant web.

Flashes of – _something_ – went off behind his eyes. He saw the whole world – all the worlds – splintering apart as Crom Cruach laughed, face bloody as he tilted his face towards the sky. He saw the Morrigan – _the past,_ he could almost hear Pythia whisper – standing tall with two wicked looking swords in her hands, hair cut short and jagged as she danced with Crom Cruach at the center of a clearing, blades flashing in the light. He saw Gwyn ap Nudd, paler, colder, face set in lines of misery Harry did not recognize, watching as a beautiful woman ran to the arms of another man, a wide smile on her face. He saw Roan – his mind could not tell past or future – sitting in the sun on a large rock, watching as children raced up and down the beach, laughing. He saw, he _saw_ –

He saw a horn, brassy and dark with age, laying in crumbling velvet. He saw Bill, eyes wide as he reached out to touch it. He saw – he _knew_ then, what had to be done.

"It's almost time," he gasped at Draco. "We have to go, _now_."

**qpqpqpqp**

Bills' hand skittered over the horn as the house rocked, walls shaking as a storm broke through the wards. He heard Remus shout Sirius' name, then the roof came off, torn off like a giant hand had come down from the heavens, exposing them to the sky.

Bill threw himself forward, covering the horn with his body. The moment his skin touched the worn surface, though, he was lost.

_Bill_, a voice said, but it sounded like Harry and that _had_ to be impossible – _Bill_, the voice cried, cracking on his name. _Sound the call!_

_What?_

_Sound the call!_

_What? What call – what – _

_Blow the bloody horn, you ignorant fool!_

Bill reared back, blinking. _That_ had sounded like Snape, which should have been as impossible as hearing Harry in his head.

A clap of thunder caused the world to go quiet – or him deaf, he realized a moment later. Something huge and dark took a chunk out of the manor, right where the stairs used to be.

Bill curled his hands around the horn, picking it up out of its crumbling case. The sky raged above them, red and yet not, _darker_ as though some terrible black creature hovered just beyond the rim of light. It was growing closer, Bill could feel it in his bones, just as he knew that the house, he, Remus and Sirius would not survive another blast.

Bill raised the horn to his lips with trembling hands and sounded a call that had not been heard for an age.

**qpqpqpqp**

The guards had been easy to dispatch. Severus flicked his wand and swept the bodies over the edge of the cliff. It was not the first time he had killed and, he suspected, it would not be the last time that day.

Harry was pale and shaking as they made their way up the narrow path of the cliff. Severus had taken point, guessing that the Dark God's guards would be lax, too arrogant in their belief that they could not be stopped now.

The men had been former Death Eaters Severus recognized, but could not name. They had proof, then, that Crom Cruach had gathered from them the worst of the worst of their society. If he was honest with himself, killing the two men had felt good, better than he had felt since the whole mess had started, putting all and everyone Severus cared for into danger and he without a way to protect them. Even from themselves.

The sight that greeted them at the top of the bluff was something Severus never wished to see again. A writhing mass of bodies, most naked, littered a field that was muddy with the stench of congealed blood. Pyres dotted the landscape, some still smoking with the acid stench of burnt bodies. None of the mass orgy seemed to notice them. Their eyes were glazed, vacant. Some were wounded, some had missing limbs that were being consumed by other participants as the mass of flesh heaved and moaned as one.

Severus heard a whimper and turned to see Harry vomit out what little they had managed to force down his throat. Severus set his jaw and turned away, gripping his wand tight in his hand. They were in the thick of it, now.

The main event was in progress. Severus swallowed hard as he made out the two altars at the head of the bluff. The Dark God was corporeal, standing slick and naked in front of his followers, a sword held high over his head. A man stood next to him, arm also poised for the strike, the two prone bodies not moving on the bloody stone beneath them.

"No!" He heard Harry scream. Severus' knees went out as _something_ pulsed out of the boy, ripping through the air towards the sacrifice in progress.

All eyes – of those still sentient – turned to them. Severus' breath caught in his throat as the bodies on the altars _twisted_ and vanished, causing the blades to strike sparks as they plunged down.

Crom Cruach snatched his arm back and howled. Time seemed to stretch as the god turned, gaze tracking out over the field to settle on them.

A weight collided with Severus' back. Harry had a hold of his shoulder, trying to stay on his feet. The world lurched around Severus, and he could _hear_…

_BillBillBillthehornthehornthehornsoundthecallsoundthecallSOUNDTHECALL!_

_What?_

_Sound the call!_

_What? What call – what –_

Severus' hand was buried into the dirt. _Blow the bloody horn, you ignorant fool!_ He had wanted to shout, but his lips felt stiff and unyielding. The words rang loud in his head, and for a bare second, he thought he heard Harry laugh.

Then the call shook the sky, stopping the storm in its tracks.

**qpqpqpqp**

The call rippled out, stopping the skies and storms as it passed. It flashed the world over, clear and golden, touching hearts and minds as it passed.

In a hot, damp tomb, a god opened his eyes. Thoth levered himself off the crumbling slab, his ibis eyes flickering to filter out the wild strikes of lightning which all froze, as one, the second he stepped from the cave.

To the far north, a small girl gasped as the door to her hall slammed open, bearing a vast vista of underworld instead of the hungry Dark. A soft sound from behind her had her scrambling, watching with mouth agape as Balder, her beloved cousin, appeared on the low marble slab he had went to sleep on centuries before and faded from view, leaving her alone.

He pushed up with one hand, the other coming up to swipe his long bangs from his eyes. "Cousin?" The rough voice croaked. "Is that you?"

To the east, where the sun was caught, just below the horizon as the call streaked across the sky, a woman opened her eyes. Himiko rose from her bed, blinking as the world battered at her spiritual shields. Her country, her land of the rising sun, was on the knife-edge of extinction. Himiko could feel the raw power held breathless in a grasp she did not question. She got to her feet, hands glowing with power. This was _her_ country. She would not allow anyone to ruin it.

To the east and south, Krishna opened dark eyes with a cry. His flute was held tight in one hand, his bones ached from the sorrow of his people. He would not fail them now.

Gilgamesh reached over to wake Enkidu, smiling as his friend grumbled, swatted at him and turned on his side. The smile on his face dropped as he glanced out of the cave; the world smelled strange, different from the last time he had walked the land.

He was glad Enkidu was there with him.

On the green isle, a man awoke, coughing dirt and dust from his mouth as he rolled off the ancient bier. He scrambled to his hands and knees, staring down at youthful, solid flesh. His armor stood on a dusty stand near a plain wooden door. He stared down at his left fist, willing the stiff fingers to open. The glossy sheen of a black feather lay nestled in his palm.

Cuchulainn sucked in a deep breath, heart pounding in his throat. He was needed, the call had gone out. The Morrigan would not be alone this time. He swore it.

On a mystical island that lay in neither realm, a man woke from a long and troubled sleep. All was still around him, the heavy fog still clouding the windows, allowing just the faint trace of light into the room.

His joints felt stiff and the wound in his side was tender. He unwound the bandages, expecting a rush of blood and pain. A smooth scar greeted him instead.

"It is time," a woman spoke from the door. A sword gleamed in her hands.

"I thought you were bound to the lake," Arthur said.

"The lake is no more," she paced forward, holding the hilt out for him to take. "It is time," she repeated. "The call has gone out. The heroes must wake."

He closed his eyes for a moment, heart heavy and sore. "Alone?" He asked.

"What's this, alone?" Another voice said. "Come, Arthur, you know us better than that."

His heart in his throat, Arthur opened his eyes. Arrayed behind the Lady of the Lake were his knights and his dearest, dearest friends.

"Come, Arthur," Lancelot stepped forward with a smile. "The world needs us once more."

End Chapter Fifty-One


	52. Chapter 52: To Walk a Narrow Path

Chapter Fifty-Two: To Walk a Narrow Path

The call of the horn streaked across the sky, halting the storms in place. Harry gasped, heart stuttering in his chest as Crom Cruach's gaze landed on him.

"You!" The Dark God's hand slammed down onto the altar. "You will _pay_ for that, you pathetic little mortal!"

The clearing erupted into chaos. Some of the mass orgy members sprang up, some with wands, others with weapons, rushing mad at the three of them. Snape leapt forward, wand slicing through the air, taking down a swath as he darted to the side, drawing most of the away. The Priest rushed at Draco, screaming in a language Harry could not understand. That left Harry with the god, alone on the field, with just his wand to defend himself.

Harry felt faint, his mind still reeling from the desperate gamble seconds before. When they had crested the bluff, when they had _seen_ the two altars, paired side by side, the way the god and priest stood with arms extended, ready to strike – Harry's world had stuttered to an agonizing crawl.

The Morrigan _could not_ die. Nor could the Winter King. He refused to allow it. They had come too far, fought too hard, for all to come to naught. No, in that second Harry had _reached_ with all of his will and _twisted_ the future, talking the two gods away from the altars, twisting their position so that they reappeared across the clearing in the temple, away from the deadly strikes.

The attempt left him reeling. He clasped his wand in his hand, air rattling in his throat as Crom Cruach rushed at him.

Spells did little to deter the god. Binding spells slid off the conjured flesh. A slicing spell caused a small wound to appear on the god's arm. They both froze in shock for a long second, staring at the dotted line of blood that rose to the surface of the pale skin.

"So you are the Dreamer the worlds have whispered about." Crom Cruach gathered the drops of blood onto his finger and sucked it clean. The dark, fathomless eyes did not stray from Harry's face. "Time keeper by default, one of the last of your abilities, I'd say. Since I've murdered most of the rest," White teeth were shown in a vicious parody of a smile. "I'll enjoy eating the flesh from your bones, boy."

Then he attacked.

**qpqpqpqp**

Severus, for one heart-stopping second, was bitterly grateful for his years as a member of the Death Eaters. The vicious curses rolled off his tongue with ease, even as his off hand, still heavy with the strange axe he could not seem to put down, swung down to crack a skull in half.

"The temple!" A flash and it took all of Severus' strength to keep from cleaving Harry in half. "They're in the temple!" The air around the boy _twisted_ and he was gone, appearing across the clearing with a nasty hex aimed straight for the Dark God's groin. _Gryffindors_, he sighed.

The temple sat on the south side of the bluff, opposite the massive orgy and dotted pyres. Severus set his jaw and blasted his way through the mindless bodies, ducking a wild swing from a man holding a rake, kicking out at the man's chest and hearing a satisfying _snap_ as the man tumbled away.

"Snape!" A scream, a voice Severus had hoped was dead and gone. Narcissa Malfoy rose from the mess of bodies, naked and shiny from fluids he would rather not think about.

"You," he growled back at her. Her hands were empty, as were her eyes, lit just by the wild rage that had consumed so many around her. He leveled his wand at the woman, praying that Draco would not see.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he said as she screamed and rushed at him.

**qpqpqpqp**

Draco stumbled as he lunged away from the wicked point of the Priest's sword. It was more of a short sword than anything else – it was wicked sharp and the man knew how to use it, as Draco had found out, much to his displeasure.

He _needed_ to be at Harry's side. He needed to help him with the frothing mad cow of a god that kept running across the field starkers, with bits flapping about that Draco had rather not see on an old man. Ever. It didn't help that the very ground he scrambled over was littered with naked bodies – and sometimes _parts_ of naked bodies – which, again, he had rather not seen. Ever.

The wild pulse in his chest had expanded from the second the Priest had screamed and rushed at them. The burning in the back of his throat grew hot, his eyes wide, even as the muscles he had dreamed of started to flex under his skin.

It was rather distracting.

He ducked away from the wicked blade, swiping a blinding spell behind him. It missed, but the Priest was forced to jump out of the way, his foot landing on a spike of metal. The Priest shook it off and smiled, causing Draco's stomach to plummet.

"Blast and hell!" Draco sprinted away, back cramping with impulses he could not understand. A rough wooden structure rose up around him. "Just bloody die already!"

**qpqp**

Severus spat on the decapitated body of Narcissa Black, taking his gaze away from the field of battle for a precious second. _I had always wanted to pull your hair out. Now I have._

"Snape," a gravelly voice came from behind him, just as a bright spot of pain sliced along his side.

He twisted away, a growl of pain caught in his throat. McNair stood behind him, a curved carving knife in one hand, wand in the other.

Severus didn't bother to respond. McNair was a vicious animal, but stupid. The Death Eater could be counted on to draw the fight out, to want to wound his enemy instead of killing him, just to watch him bleed. It gave Severus maneuvering space. McNair would want to torture him to death – Severus just wanted the man dead.

Ducking away from the carving knife was easy. His axe lodged in McNair's shoulder, causing the man to shout and wiggle away. Severus spun the handle in his palm, the move coming as natural as breathing, twisting the wound open. McNair cried out again and sent a hex at Severus' legs. He had to duck away, unable to bring up a shielding spell in time.

Then McNair made a mistake. He rushed forward, seeing Severus off-balance, the wicked knife aimed for Snape's chest. Severus brought both wand and axe around, the thick head of the weapon lodging in the man's belly as Severus' slicing hex took McNair's head clean off.

Severus twisted aside as the body continued forward, wrenching his weapon free with an almighty heave. He had a minute to wipe his face with his sleeve and to catch his breath. Then he turned, wand and weapon ready, plowing for the temple, ready to cut down all that stood to oppose him. He would not fail.

**qpqp**

Draco was bleeding in more places than he cared to think about. The Priest did not seem to feel pain. Despite the many times Draco had wounded the man, he did not falter from his relentless attacks.

It was starting to piss Draco off.

The rough wooden structure was the base of another pyre, this one larger than the others dotted around the clearing. Several large pillars had been sunk into the ground, causing the two, at times, to circle around them like children on a playground.

The muscles in Draco's back were starting to cramp and hinder his movement. He tried to keep half an eye on the field of battle beyond the Priest, watching as Harry flitted in and out of sight, dodging all of the god's blows.

He was in the middle of checking Harry's position when he slipped. It was a stupid mistake, his mind informed him. His foot had slid in the bloody mud, making his dodge a half second too slow.

The short sword connected with his middle and rammed him to the post.

Time stuttered. The Priest breathed into his face, bloody and sweaty and so rank that Draco's stomach turned. The Priest began to twist the blade, but Draco stuck out with his fist, smashing the man's nose flat with a vicious punch. The man reeled back, hands coming up even as he shrieked.

That was when Draco saw it. Just beyond the Priest's shoulder, on one of the few clear spots of the bluff, Harry had fallen to his knees, hands and head down, panting for breath. The Dark God pounced, gleaming sword held high, even as Harry's head came up, slow. Too slow.

_No_, Draco felt his blood go cold. _Absolutely not, I refuse_! It was as if a switch had been thrown in his head. The pain receded. The sounds of battle, the moaning, the cries of pain, all of it faded away into a blur of white noise.

Draco would not allow Harry to die. He would not.

The world twisted into a new shape around him. He plucked the sword from his middle with ease. The shifting muscles in his back no longer cramped, causing his body to jerk uncontrollably, no. He knew what those muscles were for. He knew how to use them now.

A blinding rush of power swept along his skin. The Priest was screaming, a weapon in one hand as he rushed at Draco. A clawed fist stuck out, knocking the man flat. A barbed tail came crashing down on his head, cracking it like an egg. The rush of the orgy seemed to be lifting from the crowd. They all screamed, some pointing, some fleeing, others gathering weapons and charging at Draco with death in their smiles.

The dragon reared back, breath hot as fire exploded across the clearing, the wild magic twisting his spells into reality without the need of a wand. Draco laughed, the sound coming out as a triumphant roar.

He launched into the air, his powerful back muscles moving his wings.

_I'm coming, Harry. Hold on._

**qpqp**

Severus ducked into the temple as a blast of dragon fire roared over the clearing. _A dragon? Honestly, Draco_…He pushed the thought from his mind.

The gods were struggling on the altars, the weak sounds of their voices cutting the thick silence of the room. Little could be heard when the temple door shut behind Severus – silencing spells, if he had a spare moment to guess.

"Who comes?" A man's voice rasped out.

Severus quelled the first few responses that were ready at the tip of his tongue. "An ally," he said instead and waded forward. The floor of the temple was sticky with dried blood and bits of half-burned flesh.

"Who –"

"No time," Severus slid his wand away and grasped at the bonds. The woman shrieked, eyes flashing open as she bucked on the table.

"LetmegoletmegoLETMEGO!" Her scream grated on his ears.

"I'm _trying_," he snapped.

"There is not time," the Winter King rattled his wrist bonds. "Only Crom Cruach can undo the locks now."

"Then any suggestions?" Something crashed into the side of the temple.

"The axe," the gods' eyes gleamed. The Morrigan's head came up and there was sense in her eyes.

"I had wondered where that had gone," she said. "Use it to break the links. Hurry!"

"The links are on your skin, you daft twits," Severus pointed out.

"Just do it!" Gwyn ap Nudd's voice filled the room.

Severus took a deep breath and then eased around the altar to their heads. The Morrigan's dark eyes tracked his every move. He hoisted the axe up over his head, eyeing the chains.

"Do it," the Winger King's eye shad taken on a strange glow.

Severus grasped the handle with both hands, raising the axe high, high over his head. He caught a breath, holding it tight in his chest.

He brought the axe down with all of his might.

**qpqp**

The world was hazy at the edges. Harry could not tell the difference any more between reality and the hazy strands that crisscrossed his vision.

The Dark God was coming. Harry sent off a nasty hex he had learned from Blaise, feeling a jolt of pride in his chest as the god stumbled. Harry _reached_, grabbing the nearest strand of the future and swapping it with his.

He wasn't sure if it was supposed to work that way, but at that point, he didn't care. It got him away from Crom Cruach's magic and his wicked blade.

The inside of Harry's mind was a different story. Each time he _reached_, each time he _twisted_ reality to move him from point to point, a little more of his mind shattered. He could feel pieces slipping away as he dodged; his favorite color – _twist_ – the smell of his aunt's best chocolate cake. Little pieces of him crumbled each time he moved away, breaking down the door of his inner most sanctum one splinter at a time.

One last twist and he found himself kneeling in a spare, clear bit of dirt. The edge of the cliff was on his right. The mess of flesh and blood and burning bodies was to his left. He flung his hands out and caught his palms on the dirt, feeling the heavy weight in his chest and throat.

He couldn't do it again.

A sound caused him to look up. A million futures flashed in front of his eyes. Crom Cruach's cruel smile split the pale face bathed in blood. It was the end. It could not be the end. It _couldn't_.

Harry took a deep breath, feeling the futures slow and settle around him. Somehow, he _knew_ it would be his final move, his final strike against an evil he'd had no intention of waking.

The sword glinted in the murky light. A flower of fire exploded across the clearing. Somewhere, Harry thought he heard a dragon roar.

_Danu_, he whispered into the growing stillness of his mind. _I am so scared_.

Warmth began to spread in his chest. The futures pressed down on him, bearing present and past into his soul. The first time he ever did magic slid across his mind. The shape of Ron's smile on that first Hogwarts' train. Hermione's laughter from third year. His aunt's cookies, sneaked to him once when he was very little. The warmth of Professor Snape's hand on his shoulder. Sirius' grin. And Draco – all of Draco – pale eyes and narrow glare and cold hands and – and – and…

It boiled up inside of him, the agony, the loss, the pain, the love of all his life. He gathered it up and flung it away, straight into the god whose finishing arc would end the strands of all his futures if he did not _strike_.

Harry screamed, hands clutching at the ground beneath him. Crom Cruach reared back, gleaming sword falling from his hands, torso split open from collar to groin.

Harry's vision turned dark at the edges, spiraling inward as he fell back, back and back, away from the scream of an enraged god, away from the roar of a bloodthirsty dragon and the cries of two death gods, freed from their bonds.

Warm arms caught him before he could fall forever. A woman's soft hands eased long bangs from his face. He thought he heard soft voices whispering into his ear, how proud they were of him. He closed his eyes against the sight of his mum and dad and let everything go.

End Chapter Fifty-Two


	53. Chapter 53: Choosing

Chapter Fifty-Three: Choosing

Harry floated in space. There was neither up nor down, nothing to anchor him to the world. He was not in the abyss, nor anywhere else he could remember. It was dark and close, like thick blankets wrapped around his head. _Why is it so dark_?

"It's always dark here," a woman said. Harry opened his eyes. The nothingness resolved into a shadowy plane. A woman in a cloak stood before him, a deep cowl hiding her face.

"Danu," he said.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," she said.

It surprised a laugh from him. "I guess," Harry scratched at the back of his neck. His mind felt…better. Not whole, exactly, but better. He didn't hurt, either, which should have been his first clue.

"So, am I dead yet?" He asked.

She tilted her head to one side. "Do you wish to die?"

"What?" He blinked.

"If it is your wish, you may go," one hand folded out of her sleeve. "You have carried the world on your young shoulders far longer than others have dared to try. If you wish peace, it is yours for the taking."

Harry frowned, toeing a sneaker into the fine gray dust. "Then I'm not dead?"

"You are here to choose."

He let out a pent up breath. "I think I've done enough choosing for one lifetime." His shoulders slumped. "I'm so tired of having to choose. Every time I seem to screw up. If I'd just let Voldemort win, then Crom Cruach wouldn't have been woken up. People wouldn't have had to die. The _children_…"

"It would have happened, your choice or not," Danu stepped forward. "It was time for the Horn of Calling to be sounded. It was _time_, young man. Your choices brought it about, yes, but if it had not been you, then it would have been someone else."

"That does little to help the guilt."

"Then do you choose peace, young Dreamer," she touched his cheek. "To dream away your sorrows and live in peace?"

It sounded so _good_. To give up the fight, to no longer be the one to struggle against the dark. To be happy for _once_ –

That caught him short. He put a hand to his chest and glanced around. "Where's Draco?"

"The choice is yours, Dreamer, and no other's."

Unbidden, Draco's words to him in front of the gates to Hel's hall came back to him. He started to laugh, rusty at first, and then longer and louder.

"Dreamer?"

"Life," he wiped at his face with both hands, breathless with despair and joy in equal measures. "No choice to it," he said. "I choose life."

Her hand touched his face again, a warm palm cupping his cheek. "You are saddened," she said.

"But loved," he shrugged. "Where I go, Draco goes. He'd be livid if I tried to get ahead of him now."

He thought he saw a smile in the shadows of her cowl. "But?"

"How many more times will I have to do this?"

"None," she gathered him in her arms and held him close. He put his head on her shoulder and sighed, tension leaking away as he imagined his own mother's embrace. "You have run your course, Dreamer," she whispered into his ear. "You have returned the Horn of Calling to the world. It has been sounded. The heroes rise. No more battles for you, Dreamer."

"Oh, thank Merlin," he had time to mutter before the whole world went black. Just before he slipped away, though, he thought he heard one last gentle laugh from the goddess of all the worlds over.

End Chapter Fifty-Three


	54. Chapter 54: To the Future

Chapter Fifty-Four: To the Future

The second time Harry woke, it was to the familiar scent of Hogwarts' Infirmary. He kept his eyes closed for a minute, cataloguing the sounds. The windows had to be open. He could hear bird song and the sound of the…Ravenclaw Quidditch team shouting in the distance.

He was not alone on the ward. Soft conversations bloomed on both sides of his bed. The sharp antiseptic odor of Madam Pomfrey's favorite cleaners was dulled by the fresh air, the faint breeze traveling over his skin, bringing the scent of spring into the room.

Harry's mind still felt fragile. He was pretty sure there was no one on either bed next to him, since the only futures that he could _See_ were his and Draco's, tangled so densely he could not tell where one ended and the other began.

He opened his eyes and flexed his hand. Draco's head shot up, blinked hard, even as Harry tried not to laugh at the lines that had been pressed into Draco's cheek by the fold of the blankets.

"Harry?" Draco pushed his bangs from his eyes, the once ever-present gel long gone from the fine strands.

"Hello, Draco," Harry ran his thumb over the back of the blond's hand. "I'm back. For good."

Draco lunged forward, startling a squawk from Harry. That caught the attention of some of the other patients, who called for Madam Pomfrey. Before Harry could protest his bed was surrounded by adults, with a few of his Housemates dancing at the edges, trying to get close as well.

Draco refused to move from Harry's bed as Madam Pomfrey ran her spells. Healer Fabing beamed at Harry from her side, hands clasped at his waist. Auror Rayne was busy trying to keep Blaise and Pansy from Harry's bedside – and losing, as Blaise distracted the man while Pansy took his wand and Neville slipped through while none of them were looking.

There was a roar of conversation so Harry had no chance to get a word in edgewise. He held onto Draco's hand as the swirl of futures got worse – then the blond did something strange – an odd _growling_ sound that made everyone freeze and the futures ease away, leaving Harry in peace.

"So," Harry said into the sudden silence. "Exactly what happened after I passed out?"

The laughter chased away the tension that had filled the air. Chairs were drawn up – then the doors to the Infirmary banged open and Professor Snape was there, striding down the aisles, his robe billowing in a way Harry was still sure only the Potions Master knew how to achieve.

Snape bullied Healer Fabing from the chair nearest Harry's bedside and engaged in a staring match with Auror Rayne as everyone else shuffled to find spots.

"So?" Harry prompted, amused by the display. "I take it we won."

Draco snorted, shifting Harry against his side. He had crawled up onto the bed, stretching out along the sheets, one arm tucked behind Harry's back. "Yes, apparently," Harry didn't have to see him to see the blond's eye roll. He elbowed Draco in the side, ignored his yelp and turned to Professor Snape.

"I remember I wounded Crom Cruach," Harry said. "Then I passed out. Is he gone?"

The Slytherins all exchanged glances, but Draco was the one to answer the question. "After you…passed out, Crom Cruach tried to go after you again. I…distracted him, until Gwyn ap Nudd and the Morrigan came to deal with him."

"They were freed?"

"Severus got them out, yes."

"How did you distract him?" Harry rubbed at his nose. "I seem to remember – was there a _dragon_ there?"

Draco sputtered as Blaise and Pansy began to laugh. "He _was_ the dragon," Blaise said. "Our Draco has become the first dragon animagus in recorded wizarding history."

"A _what_?"

"The wild magic," Draco said, "Remember? The Black Family has always had a talent for being animagi. The wild magic woke the ability in me and the rest just…happened."

"The…Black Family?" Harry's heart stuttered. "Like Sirius and…Ginny? Oh! Where's Bill?"

Professor Snape's expression was dark as he answered Harry. "Bill has been given a promotion in Gringott's archeological division. He oversees the whole lot, now."

"Because of the Horn? What – _he_ was the one to sound it, right? And what happened to the storms?" Harry's mind was filling up with questions.

"After _I_ distracted the god," Draco cut in before anyone could answer, "The Winter King and the Morrigan went after Crom Cruach. It turns out the swords the Priest and the Dark God were using were actually the Morrigan's and Gwyn ap Nudd's. They weren't too pleased that they were about to be executed by their own blades, let me tell you. You had already struck a mortal blow to the mad hatter, so they just had to finish him off. It was rather…bloody. But they would not rest until he was _gone_, all bits and pieces of him are scattered across the continent in locked, warded boxes."

"But not gone completely," Harry said.

"He's a god," Blaise shrugged. "You can't exactly eradicate him. But it'll be a feat of improbability for him to come back now."

"What about the Priest?"

Draco's sheepish cough jostled them both. "I…crushed him with my tail."

Harry twisted so he could see the blond's face. "You had a tail?"

"Laugh and die."

"A_ tail_?"

"Harry…"

"That's unfair!"

"Unfair?" Draco sputtered.

Professor Snape cleared his throat, stopping their chatter before it could turn into something more. "After the god was dispatched more…_people_ began to arrive at the site. Crom Cruach's worshippers were starting to regain their senses and attacking. Draco's new…ability left him weak after he changed back."

"That was a pain," Draco broke in. "But I liked the flying part."

"Prat," Harry laughed. "Now you have wings and I don't!"

"_After_," Severus frowned at them, but there was no irritation in the man's eyes. "After our…reinforcements came, the gods started to appear." Severus spread his hands and shrugged. "None of them knew how to stop the storms that had covered the world or undo all the damage that had been wrought."

"We were already using the time turners," Blaise added. "We could tell that the storms had stopped, but we didn't know what was happening."

"There was a disagreement between the gods," Snape continued.

"More like a bloody big row," Draco grumbled into Harry's ear.

"And none of them could decide on what to do," Severus finished with a sharp glance at the blond. "Some of them wanted to…wake you to find out what their options were."

An uncomfortable shuffle seemed to pass around the gathered crowd. Harry frowned, patting the arm that had tightened around him.

"I was dead again, wasn't I?" He tried for levity.

"You were _not_," Draco snapped. "Just…mostly dead. Sort of."

"I remember," Harry shook his head. "I saw Danu again. She said we had to stop meeting like that. She's a pretty funny lady."

"…Funny lady?" Draco blinked.

Harry shrugged. "Well, she _is_."

"They were going to wake you," Draco picked up the thread of the story, "But Dagda arrived before they could get to you. The Morrigan vowed to protect you, even from them. Which pissed a few of the gods off. When Gwyn ap Nudd stood up for her, and you, and that just made it worse. Then when Dagda arrived, he set everybody straight."

"He would," Harry agreed.

"He told us all that a new era had been born at the Horn's call. The gods would have dominion over the land once more, the heroes would return and everyone had a lot of work ahead of them." Draco took a deep breath. "The god also said that magic was to be returned to the world, like in the times before Merlin and that the whole world over would have to relearn the old ways of magic again."

Harry blinked a few times. "You mean…"

"There are no more muggle and wizarding separations," Auror Rayne nodded. "We're to go back to being one world, working with each other instead of hiding away."

"…Wow," Harry said. "How'd everyone take it?"

"Well, the mess with the storms had to be cleaned up," Neville said. "A lot of damage was done by the muggle weapons going off. A lot of people died," Neville's eyes were shadowed. "A lot of muggles were afraid of us and the changes that are taking place."

"Not war, I hope," Harry started to tense.

"No," Auror Rayne shook his head. "The Ministries of Magic sent out emergency crews to help clean up the messes and heal the wounded. Healer Fabing," he nodded to the man, "Has taken over St. Mungo's. All of the men and women he didn't trust from your…debacle got sacked or sent out to other hospitals. Then they all volunteered to go help in London. It was a mess, let me tell you."

"Scrimgeour?" Harry asked.

"Pissed as _hell_," Rayne smirked. "But he's playing along. The exiles have been named ambassadors to the muggle population. There's a whole new coalition and program based on the United Nations to help all the world's countries adapt to the magic and all the changes."

"So we won," Harry breathed, relaxing into Draco's hold. "We really, really won."

"And you," Professor Snape pointed a long finger at him. "Are forbidden from saving the world ever again."

Harry began to laugh, shocking the others out of their silence. "I already have," he gasped between chuckles, "I already have it on good authority that I shouldn't ever have to again," Harry smiled. "It's time to let someone else carry on the torch. I'm _retired_."

The whole lot got a good laugh out of that.

**qpqp**

Later, when most of the well-wishers had died away, Harry was left with just Professor Snape and Draco in the dimming light of the room.

"You never said anything about Sirius," Harry said after a long silence. "Ginny didn't come to see me. Are – are they all right?"

Draco passed a hand over his hair and rubbed small circles onto Harry's back.

"Your godfather," Professor Snape began. "Bill found a great many spells on Black. Ginny was the one to guess at them, I'm told," Snape glanced at Draco. "Fondorn apparently had been working on the whole family since before your arrival this past summer. We have a few theories as to why…but nothing concrete. Only Bill was exempt, since Fondorn wouldn't dare risk attacking a cursebreaker. The spells never altered their attitude towards Bill, so he never noticed the change. By the time you were in the house…"

"Bill had left to go back to work, leaving me with them and Fondorn," Harry's throat protested saying the man's name. "Was he ever found?"

A sly smile spread over Snape's face. "Parts," he admitted. "Small parts."

Harry's answering grin was just as vicious as the Slytherins'.

"But," he said after a minute, relishing the Healer's just desserts. "But they didn't…come. Here, I mean. To see me. Yet."

That time Snape did shift in his chair. "That is because the Headmaster has refused to return you to their guardianship. He has gone so far as to restrict access to you until we could get a cursebreaker in to make sure you were not…altered yourself."

"But I'm fine!"

"We know that, Harry," Draco aid, hugging him tight. "They don't. I think the Headmaster was playing for time until you woke up to see what _you_ wanted to do."

"…Oh," Harry gulped. "Oh," he said again. "And now…"

"The Headmaster has left it up for you to decide."

Harry ducked his head, twisting his fingers through the covers. "I…don't know," he said. "I…I just woke up."

"You don't have to decide now," Draco said. "Take all the time you need. Dumbledore has cancelled final exams. Everyone has been given excellent passing grades in every subject," he laughed at Snape's sour expression. "We can take all the time we need."

Harry settled back into his embrace, eyes heavy. "Time is good," he yawned, shifting to his side and feeling Draco's arm curl around him. "You're a dragon, eh?" He felt one of his hands being taken. He gave it a squeeze. "Never…would…have thought…" He fell asleep to Draco's irritated sniff and the quiet sound of Snape's laughter.

**qpqpqpqp**

Sasha ducked behind a stack of books as Seamus entered the library. She was trapped between their old study nook and the restricted section, since one part of the library had been destroyed. If she could just move…

"There you are!"

_Drat and damn_, she sighed.

Seamus rounded the corner of the aisle, cutting off her line of escape.

"I'm busy," she stood, folding her arms over her chest. "The castle plans have to be checked and –"

"That's what the contractors are for," Seamus retorted. "Blaise's family already _has_ the castle plans. They helped rebuild after the last time, remember?"

"Be that as it may-"

"You're avoiding me!"

"I am not! I've been busy!"

"Busy avoiding me!"

"Have not!"

"Have too!"

"Have not!"

"Have too!"

"You – you bloody _Gyrffindor_, if I wanted to _avoid_ you then I'd _do it_. I've been busy, in case that hasn't escaped your notice, you insufferable –"

He crossed the distance and kissed her, his rough, large hands framing her face. She knotted her fists into his jumper and shook, letting him manhandle them further into the small corner, away from prying eyes.

"You were avoiding me," he said after they broke apart.

She dropped his jumper as if it had burned her. "Have _not_," she drew herself up to her full height. "I have NEWTs to take, in case you missed the announcement where they were going to be held on time whether we liked it or not. I have to _study_ now, my plans on attending the specialty university are almost hopeless, since they were discovered and _flooded_ with admissions. I have to do well, and I can't gallivant off into the sun like _some_ Gryffindors –"

Seamus had reached into his pocket and had something cupped in his palm. It was suspiciously box-like. She backed up, putting the table between them.

"I have _plans_," she snapped at Seamus. "Plans which include going to university, living in London with my cousin -," she had broken down sobbing when she had gotten his letter, telling her that he was still alive – "And I've _no time_ to – to – to gallivant –"

"You said that already."

"Well, it bears repeating!"

"You're stressed."

"Of course I'm stressed! I've ten thousand things to _do_!"

"Marry me."

"I – what?"

He held out the box, a crooked smile on his face. "Since you already have ten thousand things to do, what's one more? Marry me?"

"You're _daft_."

"I love you."

She sputtered, groping for the nearest object and hurling it at his head. "_That's_ how you're going to say it? No kneeling, no – no dinner – we're in a library, you bloody –"

"Yeah, you should keep your voice down," he had to duck the book that flew at his head.

"…And then you just _say_ that, that – that – you – _bloody Gryffindor_!" She tossed a reference book at his legs, watching him dodge out of the way.

"You haven't said no," he said.

Her scream of fury turned heads all over the library.

**qpqpqpqp**

Ginny sat squished between Remus and Sirius. Her father – _fathers_, she amended, since Remus _had_ married Sirius, and she was going to repay them for that. Sirius had an arm wrapped around her shoulders and his cheek resting on her hair.

Bill hadn't had much time to spend with them before he went back to Gringotts. The Horn was placed in a special vault just for Bill – the goblins seemed to almost revere the embarrassed cursebreaker. There had been a rush on the bank after the goblins had returned the building back to its normal plane of existence. Ginny had heard the other Slytherins talking about how some wizarding families were planning on banking elsewhere and that the threat of losing business was keeping the goblins from yanking the monetary interest rate through the roof. Esoteric stuff to Ginny's ears, but Sirius and Remus had seemed to understand the whole mess.

Pansy hadn't cared and Millicent was still chilly towards Ginny. She hadn't had the courage to ask Blaise and Draco wouldn't leave Harry's side in the Infirmary.

They were in the suite of rooms Dumbledore had granted them the first time they had stayed in the castle. Classes were to be cancelled for the rest of term, aside from those seventh year students who wished to stay and study for their scheduled NEWTs.

Ginny had gone back and forth on whether to stay in the dorms or take her bedroom in the suite with her father. Fathers. She shook her head and curled further into Sirius' embrace.

Dumbledore had denied Sirius' petition to have Harry returned to his care. Even the adoption papers Sirius had had expedited had little effect on the old man. He would not move until Harry was awake. Then he would decide the matter for good.

Dumbledore had not been pleased with her father. Ginny had come along to the meeting, hoping to add her own voice to the petition in a hope that the Headmaster would let her talk. He hadn't. She'd had to stand there as Sirius received another dressing down from Dumbledore and then told to return to his rooms until the matter was resolved. Ginny did not think the last bit was a suggestion, either.

"He'll wake up soon," Remus was one of the cool heads in the situation. He was as frustrated as they were about the whole Fondorn fiasco, but the werewolf had hope that Harry would understand and forgive them all.

"Madam Pomfrey said maybe today," Ginny said. "Should we go check on him?" She started to rise.

Sirius pulled her back down to the couch. "It's all right, Gin," he said. "We'll find out soon enough."

"But…"

"Besides," Sirius shifted on the couch. "I – there's been something I've been meaning to say to you."

Ice began to form in her stomach. "What?"

"I – I'm sorry, Gin," he pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry for being an ass. I'm sorry I put you through all this. Bill and I and Remus had a talk, you know. I never should have pushed Fondorn at you, hells, I never should have believed _any_ of Fondorn's shit, ever. It hurt you, which means _I_ hurt you and that, Gin, I am sorry for more than I could ever say. I never wanted to hurt you, ever. You're my daughter, my family. I love you and nothing, _nothing_, will ever, ever change that. You're always in here," he touched his chest. "No matter what, okay?"

She choked, speechless and then threw her arms around his neck. The world dissolved into tears and hugs, neither of them noticing the small slip of paper bearing the Infirmary seal that was shoved under their door and left to rest there for hours.

**qpqpqpqp**

Lucius stretched out on the padded chair in Severus' sitting room, arms bent high over his head as he propped several vertebra in his back.

The door opened, letting a draft of cold air into the room. The spring rains had returned, melting the snow on the grounds. Severus stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him with a touch more force than necessary.

"Is that son of mine still in the Infirmary?" Lucius asked.

"Oh, yes. Every time Poppy tries to dislodge him, he growls at her."

"Such manners. You should have brought him up better, Severus."

The Potions Master gave him a sharp look. "Your _wife_ can be blamed for that."

"Ex-wife," Lucius' smile spread. "I received her death certificate today. I'm officially a widower."

"How lovely for you."

Lucius set his elbow up on the edge of the armrest, propping his chin in his hand. "Did you _really _have to tear her hair out?"

"Yes, I – what?"

Lucius felt his chest grow warm. "You give me the best presents," he said. "I'd been wishing for her death for ages."

Severus stared at him for a moment. "Did Poppy send another pain draught for you?"

"Oh, yes."

Severus sighed. "Figures."

"And how is our Mr. Potter?" Lucius called after the man. Severus disappeared into the bedroom, but returned a minute later sans robe, boots or socks. Lucius licked his lips and narrowed his eyes.

"Harry is awake," Severus stopped to pour them both a knuckle of scotch. "He was awake the whole day where he received every visitor under the sun except that bloody dog and his family. I even had a runner send notice to the cur, but did he deign to show his blasted face? Of course not. Harry was understandably upset."

"I didn't go either."

"_You_ have been stoned the last two days, due to recovery from severe magical shock."

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten that." Lucius took his glass from Severus and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he took Severus' and tossed it, too. He rolled up and out of the chair in a smooth motion, aiming their fall on the sofa a few feet away.

"Exactly how _much_ of the draught did Poppy send you?" Severus asked form beneath him.

Lucius occupied the vicious mouth for a minute, remembering all reasons why he had loved the man beneath him for so long.

"You," he said, panting after he pulled away, leaving Severus to stare up at him. "Are a snarky, superbly intelligent, bloody magical machine. I will _never_ fill in for you as Head of Slytherin House ever again. Marry me."

Severus blinked up at him. "Ask me again when you're sober."

"I _am_ sober. Mostly," Then he bent to it, determined to prove _just_ how sober he was to the obstinate man.

**qpqpqpqp**

"So," the voice behind her said. "I've a proposition for you."

Hermione set her quill aside and turned. Colin stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot in his fancy dress robe.

She had commandeered the small classroom for her own usage after the library had been wrecked. The plans to deactivate the time turners had been made in the cramped space, as had the exile's choice to help the Ministry after Scrimgeour's terse letter had arrived, followed by the documents pardoning them all.

"A proposition?" She rubbed her hand over her eyes. "What would that be?"

She still hadn't heard from her parents. The mess of the muggle world was hard on all the muggleborn students who were waiting for some sign from their loved ones.

"Me and the rest," Colin jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "See, we've rented this swanky house and the Minister's gone and declared it as our Ambassadorial Homestead or some other such rot."

"Wizarding consulate," she said.

"Yeah, that. Anyhow, this place is huge and you know," he shrugged, looking away. "We've room 'til you find your parents."

"I can't pay you."

"You'll work for me," he coughed. "Us, I mean. You'll work for us," he finally met her eyes. "C'mon, Herm, we're right lost without you right now. Mike's making a hash of the legal language and I think Shelly just called the British Prime Minister a cow."

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione hid her face in her hands.

"So, would you do us a favor and help out for a bit? Just, you know, until…" He bit his lower lip and made pitiful eyes ate her. "I'll beg. Or – or – throw in chocolate? How's that? Or – or –,"

She held up a hand, half laughing, half crying. "All right, all right," she hiccupped on a sob. He approached her carefully, putting a hand on her shoulder. "But there had better be a steady flow of ice cream," she said.

"Any kind you want," he said. "For as long as you want. I mean it."

She covered his hand with her own and held on tight.

**qpqpqpqp**

Gwyn ap Nudd watched Erin play in the sun-lit courtyard, her wooden sword swinging through the air as she fought off invisible monsters for the sake of…he wasn't sure what it was this week.

Creiddylad was seated on a blanket on the green behind him. The sound of life filled his halls. His beloved had even come to him on her own, not making him beg for her to grace his presence, as per their agreement.

Erin turned and shot him a grin over her shoulder as she spun and laughed. He stood at the edge of her play, still aching in places, but full of life as he had ever felt before. Creiddylad had invited a host of others to enjoy the day – Epona and Rosmerta flanked his flower maiden, while Cuchulainn and Lugh spoke together over something the young demi-god held in his hands. Other gods and goddesses roamed about, some nibbling at the buffet table his steward had thought up, others stretched out, enjoying the sun.

A stir of his soldiers caused him to turn. The Morrigan paced into the courtyard, causing a stir of the gathered gods, all of them easing from her path as gracefully as possible. It did not skip her notice and she sneered at the few who raised their eyebrows at her and laughed behind cupped hands.

It was only because he was watching that Gwyn noticed the slight hitch in her step as her gaze landed on Cuchulainn.

"Morrigan," Gwyn said, drawing her attention.

"Winter King," she lifted her chin and settled her arms across her chest. "You sent out word," she said. "All were invited."

A burst of giggles from Creiddylad made faint lines appear around the Morrigan's eyes and mouth.

"Yes," he said. "I did."

"Well," she shrugged. "Here I am."

"And it's so good to see you," Creiddylad called.

The Morrigan's mouth settled into a flat line. Gwyn stepped forward, between her and the other woman.

"Macha," he said. She started, staring at him with wide eyes. "I'm glad you came. We could not have won without you."

She made a vague motion with her hand. "It was nothing. The Dreamer did most of the work," her expression gentled for a moment. "No one has called me Macha in an age."

"It is a new era," he nodded. "New things should be tried."

A hint of a smile curled her mouth. "Perhaps you are right," she said.

"Morrigan!" Cuchulainn called, making Gwyn wince. Of all the men his flower maiden could have invited…

"What, you bloody _hound_?" The Morrigan turned, settling her hands on her hips. "I've as much right to be here as _you_, you daft git. Don't make me come over there!"

The general gasp from the women made Gwyn stuff a knuckle to his lips. Cuchulainn's open-mouthed gape was as amusing as Lugh's wide eyes.

"And you!" The Morrigan turned to Alisanos, who jumped, looked around and then pointed at himself. "You are going to get the rest of the architecture crew over here, right _now_, do you hear me?"

"B-B-But –"

"I'm building a house," she folded her arms over her chest again. "A keep, a castle, whatever strikes my fancy. _You_ lot are going to help. Run along like a good lad, before I get _testy_."

Alisanos squeaked and vanished.

She turned back to Gwyn, who had lost the battle against laughter. "You're right," she said with a smile. "It _is_ time for a change."

Gwyn's knees gave out on him, dumping him to his rear on the grass. Erin rushed up and threw her arms around him, joining his laughter.

The Morrigan's smile held no trace of death at all that day. Even when Cuchulainn got enough brains together to speak to her without stuttering.

It was a very good day.

**qpqpqpqp**

The Great Hall was full to the brim with people. The swift reconstruction of the castle had gifted them with a number of families attending the feast. None of the students had been lost in the terrible storms that had struck the castle, but it had been close. Far too close.

Albus kept one hand on the Head Table as he let his gaze wander the long hall. He picked out Harry, squished between Draco Malfoy and a blushing Neville, all of them bent close, listening to whatever Pansy Parkinson was saying. They broke apart laughing, even Harry, whose pale face worried Albus more than he cared to say.

The world rocked a bit as his equilibrium tottered – holding the wards had been too much. The castle had almost drained him dry in the final hours of their hold against chaos. It had been a nearer thing that he had cared to admit, even to Minerva.

All of his Houses were full to the brim, each full of life and laughter, some tears and sorrow. All of them had been touched in some way by the terrible wave of destruction that had almost consumed them all. It would take time, time and effort, for them to return to some sense of equilibrium in the world.

The Black Family had claimed the end of the Slytherin table, stealing glances down towards Harry every chance they got. The decision had weighed heavily on Albus, but he had failed Harry enough for one lifetime. He had transferred guardianship to Severus, knowing the Potions Master cared for Harry almost as much as Albus did, despite his protests to the contrary. The one stipulation Albus included was that Harry would be allowed to see his godfather and his family once a year at the very least. Albus still had hopes for the fledgling families. He could not help it. It was his nature.

"Albus," Minerva whispered to him. "Your speech."

"Oh, yes. Of course, forgive me," he raised a hand for silence. It descended over the hall, all eyes turning towards the Head Table.

"My ladies and gentlemen," he began. "These last few years have tested us all beyond any measure. A Dark Lord defeated. A Dark God cast down and contained," he nodded to Harry, who seemed to sink in on himself under all the wondering stares.

"Moreover," he continued. "Moreover, magic has returned to the world at such levels that have not been seen since the time of Merlin. Ancient heroes walk the land, creating new legends for all to learn. The gods have returned, all the gods," he smiled out over the shifting crowd. "And they have vowed to do their best by us. Yes," he nodded. "We have seen the end of one era and helped birth the next. A wonderful job to you all." He held up his cup and toasted them. All scrambled to follow his lead.

"As it is the end of one era, another must come to an end as well," he said as he lowered his cup. The teachers shifted around him. "I, Albus Dumbledore, am stepping down as Headmaster of Hogwarts." He held up a hand, quieting the rush of whispers. "I am an old man," he laughed. "And my time has come to step down. As such, I ask you all to raise a glass as we toast to Minerva McGonagall, the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The cheer that rose up drowned out Minerva's gurgle of surprise. Albus drank deep, smacking his lips together at the heady taste of pumpkin juice.

Yes, it was the perfect way to end a day.

**qpqpqpqp**

Harry curled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his shins. The Infirmary was empty, save for Harry, who had been relegated to the empty hall for one more night.

Draco had been sent back to his own bed on pain of death by Madam Pomfrey. Once the nurse had figured out that Draco was all growl and no fire, she had booked no protest from the blond. Harry had the night alone, for the first time since waking in Hogwarts.

A full moon had risen up over the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid had been going out daily to contact the centaurs, but none had been found. Many of the magical creatures in the forest had been injured in the storms. Harry had heard that Charlie Weasley had come back from Romania to head a magical creatures team to help the ones they could find.

Sirius still had not come to see Harry. It hurt, in the way an old scar hurt, that his godfather had not tried, at least, to seek out Harry and…he didn't know. He wanted an apology. He wanted the man to hug him and have the last nine months all be a giant blur, a nightmare he could dismiss out of hand. Auror Rayne – well, Dr. Rayne, now, the man had given up his post as an Auror and become a counselor full time – Rayne said Harry had to learn to accept the truth, that pretending that it all had been a dream was a dangerous thing to do. Harry was sure he had a valid, scientific reasoning for it. Pretending still sounded grand to Harry.

The deep window seats were new, a present from the Zabini family construction business to Madam Pomfrey. The head nurse had gotten teary-eyed at the gesture. Harry had waited until Pomfrey had gone to sleep before slipping out of bed and crawling onto the window seat and wrapping his blanket around his shoulders.

This far from the gathered students meant Harry's world was stable. Without Draco, the press of the Great Hall would have been unbearable. Dumbledore's little surprise would have triggered a whole attack if Harry had not had one hand gripping Draco's the entire time.

No, in a way, Harry was grateful that Dumbledore had signed Harry's guardianship to Professor Snape. They had already talked about his seventh year, with Severus – he had insisted Harry call him Severus – with Severus laying out all of Harry's options. Harry was sure he could not take another year of study at Hogwarts, not in his condition. Severus had urged him to think it over, but had not pushed, respecting Harry's opinion in a way he was sure Sirius never would have.

It hurt to think that of his godfather, but Harry had to accept it. Rayne had cautioned him that there was no such thing as the perfect person and Harry had had to come to his own realizations about how he had idolized his Sirius, placed him on such a high pedestal that he could do aught but fail. Harry still had a lot of things to work out with Rayne and Severus had promised to take Harry to the man's office at least once a week, or more if he chose.

As for the rest of the world…Harry was more than happy to wash his hands of it. He'd meant it when he said he had retired. No more, he nodded, tucking his chin to his knees. _No more world saving. I am done. No more. Not even consulting – well, maybe consulting. Perhaps. If they asked nicely_.

A shadow passed over him. He looked up into dark eyes and messy hair. He let go of his legs and lunged forward. The Morrigan caught him in a fierce hug, driving the air from his lungs.

"My dream child," she whispered into his hair. "Did you think I would not come?" She smoothed a hand over the back of his neck and arranged them to sit, side-by-side, Harry's smaller form tucked tight under her arm.

"I missed you," he said.

"I've been waiting for when you were alone," she tapped his nose. "I have news for you."

"What?"

She ducked her head and made a show of glancing around the room. "I've started a house."

"You did?"

"You should have seen their faces!" She hugged him close. "Dream child," she said, sobering. "You are welcome there, any time."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Thank you," he said, voice thick as he blinked away the sting in his eyes. "Thank you so much."

"You and me, child," her wry smile curled her lips. She held up her left hand, a single, black feather appearing between her fingers. "You shall always know the way. You have walked the narrow path and come out the other side." She pressed it into his hand. "We are not done yet, you and I. We shall see years yet between us."

"I know," Harry curled his fist around the feather, bringing it to his chest. The futures flashed in front of his eyes. "I've seen it too."

End Chapter Fifty-Four


	55. Chapter 55: Epilogue

Chapter Fifty-Five: Epilogue

The Manor was a new construction. Built on a site that the locals claimed was a battlefield, the two wizards had overseen every step of its creation, from the foundations to the final wards that locked the world gates in places on the far edge of the property.

The local village had been eradicated in the Great Storms ten years prior. No one had known how the inhabitants had died. New tenants had been encouraged to move in, restarting the flagging fishing trade that had once been that area's lifeblood. As long as none of the locals wandered up to the Manor's grounds, Manor and village all lived in harmony.

The world had seen a great many changes. Heroes battled with ancient foes, some creating new legends as they borrowed modern technology in their battles. The spectacular sight of Beowulf taking down Grindel with a machine gun and sword had created a host of new stories – as well as entire fields of study in some universities.

Magic was everywhere. More people were born with magic than without. A host of new gods and goddesses had been inducted into pantheons the world over. Seers, Dreamers and Pathfinders were popping up every year in each round of children born.

The Manor on the bluff was the only school for the children born with those talents. Owned by the hermit Harry Potter and the politician Draco Malfoy, the two men had offered their home as a school the moment the Zabini family had finished its construction.

The modern heroes of their time had all gone in many directions – even most of the regular world knew their names by that point. Blaise Zabini, owner of one of the premiere construction companies that specialized in creating the old protections for homes and businesses had quadrupled as people all over the world bid for their time and efforts.

Neville Longbottom-Zabini had begun his own bio-magical industry with the innovative advances he had created for the combined magical and non-magical medical fields. He was a respected authority on all things plant related as well as a high priest to the following of Rosmerta. It was said that the goddess herself blessed all of his endeavors, even the ones she did not understand.

Draco Malfoy was a celebrity in both worlds, the only dragon animagus known to history. The change had prompted one or two ancient heroes – one St. George in particular – to attempt a duel with the wizard. All challengers had been met with refusal and a hefty threat from one triple goddess of battle, the Morrigan.

Severus Snape had won the Order of Merlin, First Class just after the Great Storms, a medal awarded to him by a stern-faced Minister Scrimgeour. The next elections had seen the Minister stepping down from the position, allowing a fresh-faced Colin Mercer to take his place as the youngest Minister ever, as well as the canniest leader the wizarding world had ever had. Ten years into the position had Colin defending the position twice and winning both elections by landslides. His chief of staff, Hermione Granger, had held the position since his second year in office, after she had graduated from Hogwarts and laid her parents to rest. Many bodies had not been found in the wreckage of the Great Storms, so each country had put together giant memorial gardens for all the survivors' families to come and mourn for those they had lost.

Minerva McGonagall was still Headmistress of Hogwarts. Severus Snape, the premiere Potions Master in Europe, was her Deputy, a position many heard him mutter about. The position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, however, still eluded him.

Lucius Malfoy had retired from politics and the governors' board after his son's graduation. He went to take a more hands on approach to running the Daily Prophet. He had expanded the number of papers he owned every year, branching out to different countries and, as of the ten-year anniversary of the Great Storms, even into the non-magical communities.

Pansy Parkinson had gone on to become the most celebrated design-witch in both magical and non-magical worlds. Millionaires vied for her time and bookings. She made money hand over fist, and, ten years later with two children, she refused to marry, laughing in the face of propriety as she shared a house with her long time friend Millicent and Millicent's non-magical husband, Tom.

Of the Black Family, Sirius Black had gone into the Ministry, fighting for children's rights. He sponsored many of the orphanages that had been created, after so many parents had died in the Great Storms. He was named, at one point, the nominal head of Britain's child services after Sirius had taken a look at the countries' archaic laws and gone to court to change them all. His husband, Remus Lupin-Black, became an ambassador to the werewolf clans found living in central Asia and North America. Bill Black was still the head of Gringott's Archeological Department and was married to Fleur Delacour-Black with two children and a the third on the way. The Blacks had appealed several times to the courts to regain custody of Harry Potter. Every time the courts had denied their petitions. Harry Potter never spoke, publicly, about the attempts, but rumor said that there had been a vicious row at the Black Manor after the last petition. Potter never appeared in public with Sirius Black or his family, but other rumors said that a fledgling correspondence had been taken up between the two over the years.

Ginny Black had gone on to study in both magical and non-magical universities. She returned to Hogwarts seven years after graduating and stole the Defense Against the Dark Arts position from under Professor Snape's nose. Three years in and the curse had yet to take her from the position, much to Snape's disappointment, or so it was said.

Sasha and Seamus had married right out of Hogwarts. She had gone to university and went on to earn her degrees in physics. The advances she had brought to the field with her combination of arithmancy and magical knowledge were still being explored. Seamus went to university as well, earning his degrees in chemistry and creating the first ever liquor that tasted like tea, but held all the punch of a bottle of rum.

As for Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived – he never returned for his formal seventh year at Hogwarts, creating quite the stir in several worlds. He chose to be home-schooled instead, staying at Hogwarts with Professor Snape, but in his own suite of rooms, well away from the general student body. After school he had virtually disappeared, causing many to gossip that he had gone mad and killed himself. Those rumors were laid to rest when he and Draco Malfoy joined themselves in marriage in the middle of the Temple to All Gods, surrounded by more denizens of the Otherworld than theirs. Their retreat to their isolated Manor in Ireland had become the stuff of legend, prompting several books and a few movies from the struggling Hollywood industry.

As for Harry, himself, he never recovered full strength of mind. He could never return to the wild mass of people who wished for him to tour and sign autographs. Their Manor was under tight wards, so none could find the place. Many knew the general area, but none had found the actual house for all their trying. After several complaints lodged by the villagers of the town just beyond their grounds, both muggle and wizarding governments had issued a plea for people to leave the pair alone. A giant fit of anger by Draco Malfoy in his animagus form had lent to most leaving the pair in peace – or risk death by dragon fire. The Black family was also barred from the grounds – but more for their safety than Harry's. Harry wasn't quite sure what Draco or Severus would do to his former guardians, but he doubted it would be pleasant. The halting letters he sent to both Sirius and Remus were enough, for now. Ginny sent him weekly updates from her teaching position, asking for his opinion on certain subjects. He was happy to help her when he could.

The secluded specialty school had been Harry's idea, his project from seventh year out. He had wandered the Otherworld after graduation with Rasheed and Draco, finding other Dreamers and learning the things Pythia had not had the time to teach them. When children had started to be born with the gifts, Harry had opened the Manor as a sanctuary, knowing the children would need the seclusion until they could master the mental wards Harry and Draco could teach them.

Harry had just finished a class, letting the handful of children run off to play when he felt the presence at his back. He turned on his bench and smiled.

"I thought I saw you," he said. "Flying out over the water again? You'll make the fishermen angry."

"I went north," Draco's lazy smile matched the wild tumble of silver-blond hair. He strolled up to Harry and bent down for a kiss, leaning further and further until he straddled the narrow waist on the hard bench.

Harry pushed him away with a laugh. "There are kids about," he said.

"All the more education for them, then," Draco brushed the back of his fingers against Harry's cheek.

"The Morrigan is coming for supper and Gwyn is bring Erin," Harry caught Draco's hand and held it close. "Hel sends her regards and Balder wants to visit after Beltane."

"Drat and damn," Draco smiled down at him. "No time to play, then?"

"Well…" Harry grinned. "Supper is a few hours off."

"Have I told you how much I love that mind of yours, Harry Potter-Malfoy?"

"Not today."

"Come on," Draco clambered off the bench and dragged Harry to his feet. "Let me prove it to you. Repeatedly."

Their laughter trailed them all the way to the house.

The End


End file.
